I was going to make this a podcast entry, but remembered that my Mom is unable to listen to my podcasts due to her hearing loss...so I thought...I'll do a double posting. Ill type it out as a blog and then also record on the podcast (so for those who read the blog...no need to go listen it unless ya just the soothing tones of Lisa )
I've been speaking to a good friend the last few days, discussing life and our places in it. As well as the footprints that we leave in this life. I know that some people wonder (including one of my children, who mentions it VERY often in a not so polite manner...maybe some day she will TRY to understand ME and my WHY with a little bit more compassion) why I take and post so may photos and videos of my family and events..some important to me...but most just everyday laughter and smiles and doing random things. It is because....digital footprints...at some point become..*wiping tears now* they become the sounds of laughter, the voice that you will never again get to hear, you get to see a hand movement that has become so familiar and that you are scared to forget. I'm sure its all just a component of my grief process...to lose a child to violence...is unlike losing an elder. You cannot prepare. You don't take the time to study faces and try to memorize all of the little nuances that you find so beautiful. You just assume. You assume that you will wake up tomorrow and the world and your child will be just as beautiful as they were when you went to sleep the night before. So now...I'm terrified of missing a nuance...of missing a beautiful moment. So I take pictures..lots of pictures. And lots of video. Because I want to hear voices..so many videos of voices. I want to hear my loves ones talking, singing, laughing, cracking up, giggling, I want to see them smiling....I want to be able to look at them...ALIVE. I want memories of them.
Okay, I totally got off track of what this blog what going to be about, lol. I was talking about searching for and reclaiming your voice. Years ago, I wrote this poem...and it spoke to how I, as a woman had become lost. I had lost my identity after so many years of becoming everyone else's identity. You know, we go from being somebody's child, or sister, to someone woman...to maybe somebodys mother...Nana...Auntie...it goes on and on. I no longer know what it is that I like to eat, because I have been cooking what YOU like for so long. I watch what YOU like to watch on tv. I travel to this place for vacation...because this is where you thought we would like...I am...So and so's wife...so and so's mother, auntie, cousin, sister, friend, ex, coworker....I have been so many people somebody, that I had forgotten who LISA is and how to reclaim her. And so then a few years back, I did the work and I did reclaim her. I became more selfish. I went back to school. I got active again in the Columbia BLM and POMC community and I felt ALIVE.
And now, here it is...4 years later...back in Boston. And I feel as though I am losing sight of Lisa again and I need to push to reclaim her. I think this is why I am so committed to being so INTENTIONAL about this blog and podcast. I have found something that is just for me and MY voice. I am able to be heard. I am able to introduce people to LISA from my perspective, my voice alone. So..without further ado, Introducing Lisa Robinson
Who Am I ?
Who am I? You asked
me that today. I told you what I thought you’d like to hear. I gave the easy
answers…. Who am I? Hmm……
I’m Sara’s
daughter, Bee and Steph’s lil Sis. With
the BIG lil brothers, haha. I said I’m
divorced. A single mom of 3 I used to be married to _____ I started to
speak again; but you stopped me, “No…who are YOU?”
So, I searched a
little deeper “Who am I?” Hmmm…well… I’m that chick from around the way.
You know…that redbone who lives up at #687. The one with them bad ass little
boys…and the son who draws so well, I’m the one whose daughter was killed. Yeah…that was my daughter…Thanks. I’m that chick that’s always cookin’ ;
anytime you visit, there’s always something on the stove. I’m that chick that’s
always reading. Trying to find the next thing to learn If pain in our lives
teaches us…by now, I should be a scholar. I’ve seen sooo damn much. I’m that
chick that all your boys talk about, “Damn..you got a good woman.” But you
still treat me like some IG Thot.. Running in and out, coming as you please.
But as soon as I
turn my back to leave…here YOU GO...fallin on your knees. I’m that chick you
hear on the mic..singing loud and strong, Longing for the times when I can be
heard as clearly …OFF stage I’m that chick …who still fights to go forward.
Even when life seems to keep Pushing me back. Who tries to “KEEP HOPE ALIVE”
when all along, my heart and hope has died.
So, when you ask
me, “Who am I?” I’m that chick.. I’m that chick.. I’m THAT chick.. Stressin’,
fightin’, lovin’, laughing, struggling, singing, sexin’, feelin’, growing,
living, maintaining and screaming’
All of these words
describe me. I can’t tell you who “I” am Every day I am someone new..so let me
ask..”Who are YOU?
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