One of the best gifts my mother gave me was going on a getaway. I was a junior or senior in high school when she cut off her nearly waist-length locs, fluffed her fro, and packed her bags. She waved goodbye to me and my father and took off in a plane to South Africa. It was the first time I had seen her go on a trip by herself that wasn’t to visit family or travel for work. I decided to take note.
I’ll admit that the title of this blog post is a little presumptuous. I haven’t figured out the meaning of life. But what these stories, and my own story, are teaching me is that life is for more than busyness and regret.
While microaggressions may seem small, they are often anything but.
After more than 20 years as a Black woman in the workforce, I’m finally learning to know what I want, to ask for it, and to not be (too) surprised when I receive it.