I wasn’t supposed to be born.
My daddy stopped Momma from aborting me in her first trimester.
Then she was sent to jail for holding my daddy’s gun.
She even threw herself down a flight of stairs to “lose” the baby.
God said no.
She was released from jail because I grew inside of her. She hated me. She hated that I was born to a man, whom she loved fiercely, she took the fall for.
I look like him.
I have my father’s charisma and the gift of gab.
I flip money fifty ways, just like my daddy.
I reminded her so much of him that when I was 15, she put a gun to me and said, “You’re just like your father. I should have flushed you down the toilet when I had the chance.” She demanded I beg for my life until I peed on myself.
Momma raised me to hate being alive.
So I hated my birthday.
To bear all the pain I affiliate with the 23rd of September, I do big things on that day to forget that I was ever born.
For my 50th, I had planned to launch my tech startup for and by Black Women. I have 40 content creators, 156 (and counting) early adopters, and marketing collateral that is relatable and ready to go! I am poised to disrupt technology by bringing culture to the cloud.
But I’m not launching on my birthday.
Because I am healing doing this life alone, unwanted, and relating to myself like I should never have been born.
Let me explain.
I declared birthing 100 Billionaire Black Women in the next 5 years through content and technology not too long after the January 6th Insurrection and the Impeachment trials. I was livid at the contrast of how the police treated the Insurrectionists in comparison to the protestors of the Black Lives Movement. There seemed to be a double standard. The Government changed the rules so “they” always win and I was sick of it.
I saw technology as the way to level the playing field for us, sis, so we could set ourselves emotionally and economically free for the next five generations. I wanted to prove that we didn’t need to depend on, go to, or through White Supremacist structures anymore.
I was so adamant about this, I funded the beta with my own cash.
The closer we got to my birthday, the more anxious I became. I could hear Momma screaming ugly words at me.
Worthless piece of crap.
Should never have been born.
The more I stressed, the harder I worked.
The less I would allow ANYONE to help me.
Until I was so anxious, I crashed.
I took five days to do a transformation course to heal the past that was so loud in my head. Over those five days, I just focused on myself.
I took the time to slow down and realized I was doing everything myself because I didn’t deserve to be alive. Why would anyone want to help a stupid, dumb, and ugly worthless piece of trash? What if people helped me but then threw it in my face, as Momma did? Or use their help against me? Or hold it over my head so I owed them?
As I sat and cried, I realized what was missing was loving leadership– I could lead this project from the space of love not proving others wrong; support–being open to help and giving it to others as an act of love, and empowering partnership– allowing myself to be a team player instead of the hero.
In this created context, my heart healed. Instead of regretting being alive and having a birthday, my heart flew wide open with gratitude and space for how very supported I AM and all I have to do is let people love me.
I now have an experienced and proven tech advisor who is BRILLIANT and Jewish! #inclusivesupport
I’m grooming content creators to be part of my leadership team.
I am doing a kick starter campaign so the project stops being a “me” project and becomes a “we” project.
We will launch the Gurrl App in 2022 to make room for investors, equity partners, advisors, and affiliates.
If you want to come along for the ride, go here: www.TheGurrlApp.com/presale
So instead of burying the self-hate of my birthday beneath a launch, I chose to let myself feel LOVE on the day I was born 50 years ago!
My boyfriend, “Mr. Lover Lover” is taking Happy and me on a five-day vacation to Las Vegas!! Spa day. Cirque du Soleil. Crazy Horse Gentleman’s Club #grownandsexy and SO much more–all starting on the day that used to remind me I should have never been born.
Allowing myself to be loved by an EXTRAORDINARY Black Man makes me think of my father.
My father fought for my life before I was born.
I was loved before I drew my first breath. Perhaps my birth was my father’s greatest accomplishment.
Perhaps all the love my boyfriend LAVISHES on me is the manifestation of my father’s love, received…
What if in me healing and celebrating being born, I am healing the generational wound of Black Love as old as chattel slavery?
Perhaps my boyfriend’s love is the love of God the Father, made flesh…
I don’t know.
I do know my heart is open, unafraid.
Healing makes us whole.
I love you, sis.