I Was Wearing Someone Else's Armor

To fight my battles. I had to learn to use my own. 

When I came to America with fifty dollars in my pocket in 1983, I had a five year plan. Get in, get your education. Get out. I started out as an au pair for a divorcee, a CIA operative* with a precocious five year old girl. I also worked other jobs to pay my way through college. Five years flew by and Memories are for Storytelling, so I stayed and created some beautiful ones.   

But when you set roots somewhere for thirty-seven years and you still don't identify as being fully American, then it deserves some looking in the mirror.  Because badges of belonging matter.  


Whose armor? Everyone's actually. 

And what quarantine has gifted me is the time and ability to gate out noise and distractions, to stay true and committed to a NOW time goal, versus a short term or long term goal. I am grateful for that luxury of time in this chapter of my life.
*Disclaimer: based on the events witnessed and my putting two and two together. 

Mama Shujaa xoxoxo


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