Letters From A Carefree Black Girl

Letters From A Carefree Black Girl

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always seemed to feel a little out of place in the various places I’ve come to consider “home”. I’ve never felt completely comfortable or as if this home was actually mine. It was always just some place I was staying in until my parents decided we should move. Then when I went off to college, it was just someplace that I’d decorate for a short period of time, that was never really mine in the first place. Soon after, I found myself moving into my very first apartment which I seemed to think would give me the perfect sense of home as soon as I walked in the door. I was right in a sense, but that feeling soon faded away once I realized that there actually was a such thing as a roommate from hell. In fact, I found that out quite a few times before I came to find that my “home” wasn’t home to me at all. Simply home to all of the negative memories of the past 3 years.


So with that, I moved yet again, on my search for “home”. I was starting to realize that maybe I had an unrealistic version of what this really meant. Or maybe it was just unrealistic given all of my circumstances? Who knows, really… All I knew, was that I had a constant feeling of never belonging or feeling wanted, not even in my own home. Soon after moving from my beloved first apartment, I found myself set off to move again. This time out of the state. I figured that even though I had nothing left for me here in Minnesota, maybe something was waiting for in New York...as does every starving artist I suppose. Maybe New York has a little something for us all? If not, why are there millions of people residing in those small little boroughs? With a job lined up and a place to call “home” for the time being, I bought my one way plane ticket and was ready to get the fuck away from everyone and everything that didn’t serve me.

Long story short, New York didn’t work out before it even had the chance to. A week before I was set to fly out of the Midwest and onto the East coast, my life altered in amazing ways I’d never imagined and it’s safe to say, it was simply best to stay my ass here for the time being.


Shortly after this was established, I was now left with finding a new home in an extremely short period of time. I’m not sure why the Universe favors me so much but for some reason, right when I start feeling defeated, she comes in clutch just for me. So safe to say, I now have a new foreign home. While it’s foreign to me, there’s still this really amazing sense of belonging. But I’ve realized that it’s about the actual house I’m in. It’s the energy I’m surrounding myself with. I’ve been working on pushing myself to consistently vibrate on higher frequencies and I’m beginning to think that maybe that is what home is…at least for me. Simply me vibrating higher and accepting myself and what is. I feel extremely at home right now in this current moment. Writing for hours, while glancing outside and seeing the birds & the trees and simultaneously working on my fourth cup of ginger tea.

In conclusion, I think that we should all explore finding a home within ourselves. A home that includes no one else at times because at the end of the day, we’re the ones we spend the most time with. The voice inside your head is the one you’ll hear the most. And your body is the only one you’re given, so wouldn’t it be nice to have a home inside of that? No matter what factors in your life alter, no matter who comes & goes and no matter how your body physically changes, you’ll always remain you at the core. Get comfortable with that.