Monday, July 14, 2014

Pretense Opposed

Pretense Opposed


I was in awe and trying my best to fight off the shame of waiting so long.

She is AMAZING!

I have always considered myself a devoted Beyoncé fan. I knew she was going to be a legend when she released her first solo single “Work It Out”; that I still to this day will sway and sing along to.

I was in the midst of creating “BMynroe Trends”: a way of self-promotion and self-exposure; opening doors and creating connections for when I start my YouTube channel: “Faced by BMynroe”. It has become a 9 to 5 job, which I am willing and happy to do; playing Beyoncé’s “Flawless” contributed to the enthusiasm.

I smiled at the video concept and was so delighted to see her claim her throne in that certified “Virgo Woman” way: Nice Nasty.

 I am a Virgo Woman!
  
As I continued to stare at the screen that had finished playing the video if not 30 seconds earlier, I was brought back to reality when I read the name featured on the song: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.

Who?

I had envisioned the speaking voice on the song; she was just as constant in my ear as Beyoncé. Her accent. Her presentation. Her point.  It was just as embedded as the chorus of “Flawless” and then…second nature kicked in. The journalist in me had become curious as to why Beyoncé had picked this particular woman, with this particular point. The Virgo in me had resonated with her message. I had to find out more.

Who was Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie?
         
“I often make the mistake that something that’s so obvious to me is just as obvious to everyone else.”
-Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

I had come across the video “We Should All Be Feminists” on the TedxEuston Channel. It was the actual lecture/speech that Beyoncé had sampled for the song and I wanted to watch it from beginning to end. Why was she saying those things in the first place and how could EVERYONE be a feminist? Questions reserved to be answered as the video played on.

She is so gorgeous!

 I couldn’t help but laugh at the dry humor she incorporated in this captivating lecture. I couldn’t help but resonate and apply what she was saying to my own mentality. She had welcomed so many of my thoughts, beliefs and emotions out of that comfort zone, that wasn’t so comfortable to begin with.

I wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t demented. I wasn’t delusional. There was nothing wrong with the fact that as a woman, I had never aspired to be married, have children or start a family.

Not planning for it anytime soon.
         
“Because I am female I am expected to aspire to marriage. I’m expected to keep my life choices always keeping in mind that marriage is most important.”
-Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

I have been single for a while now. I haven’t dated in some time and I haven’t been looking to change it. I didn’t understand how rare that was until having a conversation with my bestie. I adore her so and accredit so much of me becoming the woman I am today, to her.  We have that “Virgo/Aquarius” friendship; like Beyoncé and Kelly. We balance each other out. We may have different contents but we are manufactured the same.
 She wants the marriage, 2.5 kids and white picket fence. And just because I am not in that frame of mind doesn’t mean I look down on her any less. She is going to be an awesome Mother and ideal Wife when the time is right but I just couldn’t shake the conflict within me.

Is there something wrong with me?

I have definitely had moments where I question the woman within me. Why did I not aspire to be what we as women, had been programmed to be since the beginning of time? Why did I not want what seemed the routine of my gender? Not wanting it at the present moment was understandable; I am focused on making a name for myself and developing BMynroe as a brand but I had never even considered any of it, ever.

What color, for what wedding?
         
It’s time for me to come clean and put something into the universe that I’ve only allowed a total of 3 people to be privy to: I’ve always dreamed of being famous

Don’t judge me!

It’s true and I am pretty sure that it has been clearly obvious to some but it’s a whole different story for me to admit. Now that I know it’s on file, I feel rather “exposed” and almost “transparent”. But in order for me to make my point, I must first state its founding truth.

I believe I have never admitted it because I never wanted to be labeled as “one of those girls”. You know “those” I am referring to: the ones who are so superficial it’s frightening. The ones with piss poor morals, full of themselves and having zero contribution to anything of worth and value.

A Kim Kardashian wanna-be! *I am huge #Kimye Fan BY THE WAY!*

This “dream” has been in my heart since I was able to mentally take note and form the memory; that little girls dream morphing into a woman’s vision over time.

So many times I’ve tried to silence this desire. So many times I’ve tried to assimilate my heart to the set reality. So many times I’ve tried to discredit the dreambecause I was wanting what seemed impossible according to my current circumstances and situations but it’s always been so much stronger than I.
As if it had already been in existence before me.

Another reason for the secrecy was to avoid “the looks”. The looks of confusion and almost pity to my aspirations; their eyes said it loudly:
 “Poor thing. She’s so out of touch with reality; a child trapped in a woman’s body.”

How I HATE “the looks”!

“We teach girls shame. Girls grow up to be women who cannot see they have desire. They grow up to be women who silence themselves. They grow up to be women who cannot say what they truly think. The worst thing of all is that these girls grow up to be women who have turned pretense into an art form.”
-Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
         

To Hell with It!

I have already become more dedicated and focused on “the dream”. I have taken time to self-reflect, mediate and pray about what to do with this “dream”; what I wanted to accomplish; what I could do to get things rolling but most importantly I mediated on how much I truly wanted it. This is so much more than an artificial desire; this is part of who I am.

The writing, the make-up, the modeling, the fashion, the promotion, the networking…this is what I am good at. These are all talents and passions of mine. This is what comes naturally to me; so much so that I had subconsciously majored in Journalism to further my education and skill.

I thought it was just because I loved words.

When I tell people my major, a condescending expression arises; as if Journalism is the end all, a dead end career. And I must admit that I had a stint after graduation where I questioned all that I did because there were not ample opportunities for a recent graduate to showcase her talent. I questioned if I had signed myself in debt for nothing more than a piece of paper. Journalism is a very cut-throat nice nasty industry, in front and behind the camera—but I’ll save that tea for another day.

*hint*hint*

But had I never had ventured into this industry, I would have never found my voice, my identity. I would have never discovered my likes and dislikes; my pros and cons; and for those purposes I will forever stand by my major. I can’t fathom anything else closer to my passion.



“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and that. Because what the world needs are people who have come alive.”
-Harold Whitman
         

Be careful what you wish for…

The question I am sure you are asking for me to answer in this post is: “How do you want to be famous?” GREAT QUESTION! I asked myself the same thing while in deep mediation. Like both of my Grandmothers would always advise me when I would drift into my childhood past time of wishing and hoping:
“Be careful what you wish for because it just may come true.”

What’s the point in wishing then?

But as I’ve gotten older and become more observant of the things and people of my generation, I understand the subliminal message within the forewarning of the women before me. There are different levels to different things. There is no black and white. There is no set guideline that applies and fits to all. The same goes for fame.

There are people famous for providing great insight that has lasted hundreds of years. There are people famous for serving mankind and creating breakthroughs for future generations. There are also people who are famous for their lack of remorse and morals. And some are famous for the most horrendous acts ever accounted for.

What level am I on?
         
“Don’t expect people to understand your grind, when God didn’t give them your vision.”
-Anonymous

 I want fame for my words, my messages, and my mind. I want to fame for my individuality and creativity that gives credit to those before me. I want to be known as someone who thought outside the box, not for attention but for a wider perception that spoke to those who felt unheard. I want to provide happiness and confidence to women of all shapes, colors and sizes. I want to be the voice of a generation that has been in search for one. I want to take all that I have encountered: the pain, the tears, the triumphs, the lessons and apply them in to my writing—lasting forever and being the standing truth in a swirl of assumption and misunderstanding that has forever surrounded me.

BMynroe is not just another “fancy” name. No simulator suggested this name. I created BMynroe.  It isn’t someone I “wish” I was or that I “pretend” to be. BMynroe is who I am. There is only one and I have worked, crafted and fought for this name; I will continue to fight until it becomes a brand. And once it does become one, I will continue to fight, strive and uphold the authenticity, integrity and transparency of BMynroe because it won’t and isn’t just be about me, it will be and is about those who believed in me when everyone else said it couldn’t be done.

That’s what I want to be famous for.
         
As I write this, I am so grateful for Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s courage, strength and voice. Getting through to Beyoncé is one thing but to spark my interest that blossomed into pure empowerment is something I will forever be grateful for. Her intellectual and eloquent lecture gave such confirmation and volume to the quiet voice in my heart.

I am no more or no less of a woman because I don’t aspire to marriage, motherhood or family. I am not to be looked down upon because my heart is set on higher aspirations then my own vision can comprehend. Who am I, better yet who are “they”, to say that by reaching for the stars, obtaining the impossible will not lead to marriage, motherhood and a family? Who says I can’t have and do it all?

Maybe… I’ll be famous for that too!


XO,
@BMynroe


(RaChelle-Denise)

"We Should All Be Feminists" Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Monday, July 7, 2014

Thumbs Up

Thumbs Up

If a man thinks he is not conceited, he is very conceited indeed.
C.S Lewis

“Ahhhhh!!!! Oh my God! Oh my God! Are you serious?!?” I yelled at my computer screen. My sister came running to my door way with a concerned but more confused look on her face. Her body language and Kne-Nu’s perked up ears was demanding anexplanation for my loud outburst. “She favored my picture! She favored my picture!” It was all that I could offer at that time. The Twitter notification stating that renowned Twitter and YouTube sensation and my own beauty inspiration @tiarra_monet had favored the picture of my very first sew-in attempt, crediting her video tutorial will forever me a cherished and memorable high point in my life. She had answered the hopeful suggestion in the caption: “I hope I did her proud.” I found more words to form a sentence: “She sees me! She knows who I am!”


      ∞     


I’ve learned that one of the keys to true and genuine victory is to show gratitude and give credit. There is nothing more unflattering and arrogant then displaying and claiming that one did it all on their own and no one deserves recognition for their good fortune. I know because I did that for a very long time—relentlessly.

Me! By myself! All day! Every day! Wake up! Go to sleep! One 

pillow! Me! By myself!

A key, if not the most important, to personal internal triumph is to find and know one’s worth. I learned that by becoming more engaged in social media. In this day and age, a large majority of people base self-worth and esteem on the amount of likes, views and comments given. And I admit that I too was part of that sub group.

The member’s fee could not be paid with money.

When I first began distributing my makeup looks “Faced byBMynroe” and posting my writing, the main thing I was concerned about and strived for were the likes and how many I got. I was obsessed with how many people were paying attention because if no one was paying attention that meant I was a big fat failure, at least that is what I believed to be the gospel at the time. With that in mind, it was gut-wrenching to see that I was not getting any likes, very little traffic and close to no acknowledgement and recognition.

“Well….I guess it will be all the rage tomorrow.”

The next day I frantically went to my accounts and that “0” was still there; mocking me. Days turned into a week, a week turned into a month and that month became plural, all having one thing in common: that damn “0”!
It was beyond disheartening. What was I doing wrong? How come people didn’t care? Am I that lame that no one bothers? Am I that easy to dismiss and pass over? The paranoia and doubt lingered around me, hinting the stench of failure.

I am sensitive about my shit!

     

It wasn’t until I was on Facebook one evening, bored, scrolling down my timeline. I occasionally rolled my eyes at so and so’s status, chuckled at the hilarious pictures with captions I could relate to—my normal Facebook routine. All was going as predicted until I saw a notification that [blank] liked [blank’s] picture and the only thing I could think was, “But why?” It was the classic sloppy bathroom picture. Bathroom pictures seem to be the hottest trend these days, a trend that I despise. I studied the picture a little while longer, like I do when I am playing a hidden object game. I was trying to understand the attraction for those 178 likes and 11 comments underneath. I found nothing. “Generic”, I said under my breath as I strolled past it, not wanting to admit that I was jealous of a mere bathroom picture.

*blows raspberry*

A couple of days later, boredom had found me alone once again. And once again I was passing the time by seeing what the world of Facebook had to entertain and offer me. Then it happened, something I was so unprepared for, taken completely off guard. My boredom was no longer an issue.
I could feel my eyes widening, head tilting, and jaw slowly dropping to its limit and before I could get comfortable with that expression, my brow began to burrow and my mouth contoured in a frown; because what I was seeing angered me more than shock. I was irate!

573 Likes?!?

There it was, a display of an extra, extra large woman with a multi-colored asymmetrical creation disguised as hair, gold teeth, bending over to show just how cheap and too small her boy shorts were. She proudly showed off her cellulite that had turned into what looked like expired cottage cheese. She was giving her best sexy face as if Drake himself were taking the picture.

I don’t mean to sound callous and ruthless because I believe in being comfortable in one’s own skin and being proud of the body God gave you. I believe that beauty is beauty, no matter what color, shape or form it may be packaged in. But that did NOT apply to “this”! There was nothing beautiful about it yet somehow this Grade A ratchetness accumulated 573 Likes and a ton of comments. Before I could process and label the thoughts in my head I yelled out in frustration: “Has the world gone mad!?! What kind of foolish buffoonery is this!?!”

The frustration was so overwhelming and the fact that my profile picture, displaying a face, outfit and hair coiffed to perfection was awarded by only a single digit---added a bucket full of fuel to the fire.

That was the last straw!

Using my fingers, I aggressively demanded my computer to get me to my status box and to get there quick, fast and in a hurry because I was about to be another mysterious case of spontaneous combustion if I didn’t give a piece of my mind. Along with my ranting and raving about the nonsense I had come across, I wanted an explanation--an explanation from whomever because this dose of reality seemed to zoom over my head!

Explain!

I only got one comment/response but it turned out to be more than enough and meant more than intended I am sure. A male Facebook friend, whom I have never met nor spoken to face to face, eloquently explained that the aforementioned woman was getting attention that he was pretty sure I wanted nothing to do with. He stated how my beauty, talent and potential were more worthy; if not superior to any amount of Likes I could ever receive. And then…it dawned on me. He was absolutely right! I was putting my worth in other’s hands, at their disposal to dismiss or acknowledge.

I had become dependent.

I felt so petty and so very childish. I was embarrassed more than anything that I had allowed it to get that far. I was flabbergasted at how I had readily given over the control of my life to 4 letters: L-I-K-E.

     

How superficial I had become without realizing!

I thanked him for his honesty and for taking the time to calm the fury I had produced. I don’t think he realizes just how much he is accredited for this 180 I have made. My perception changed and so did the agenda for my many social media accounts. Instead of being motivated by the amount of attention I received, I instead became motivated by pure and genuine enthusiasm. If I kept basing my significance on the amount of likes—even if they were to multiply, I would forever be worthless.

I value myself too much to degrade myself to such standards. Not to say that I don’t want or strive for a bigger audience. Like I said in my past post “Attention Whore”, we all want love and acceptance. We, as emotional beings, want to be assured that somewhere, in someone’s eyes we are held in high regard; but to be reliant on that and only that, is like walking onto a battle field with no armor or weapons. It’s emotional and spiritual suicide.
We cannot think of being acceptable to others until we have first proven acceptable to ourselves.

Malcolm X

     

“Well, I think I am pretty damn fly!” I began to say to myself as I continued to post my pictures. “Well, I think this has merit.” I stated as I posted new writing material. I no longer did it for others; I was now doing it for myself. I was no longer trying to prove anything to anyone. This was no longer a competition.

No one’s opinion but my own matters.

The modification of my mindset had me physically feeling different. It was like the cinderblock chained to my feet had slipped away, releasing me to swim to the top, gasping for the deepest breath I could manage. I had dropped the dead weight of others opinions and comparing myself to others.

This revelation was so pivotal to the growth and strength of my diligence. I had refrained from publicizing and marketing myself. I didn’t want to feel the disappointment that I was sure to come by getting no more traffic and recognition than before. I had convinced myself that I couldn’t bear feeling and looking like a “pathetic and desperate fool”. Then I realized how paradox my thinking was! I clearly wanted to gain a more viewers and exposure but I refused to take steps toward it by doing what was the most common sense business and PR strategy: promote. I have more knowledge and privyment of the world and operation of networking and publicity than most. My major was Journalism. Why the hell wasn’t I using it?

*facepalm*

In my post “#WorkHappy” I spoke about the research I did and the outline I had set out to accomplish. In doing such I have gained more status, regard, and connections then I could have imagined. It has exceeded my humble expectations.  A door has been opened, introducing me to a larger and extensive audience. It has been such a revolution and improvement that I am still shocked to see my Likes, Views and Retweets reaching high double-digits. Gaining more followers on Twitter surpassed my prospects, providing me with immense motivation and assurance. At times, I fight back tears and allow a quiet “Really?” to escape my quivering lips. It no longer has superficial components; instead it is composed of my passion, my perseverance and my diligence. Now, even if it is just 1 lonely blue thumbs up, it means the world to me.

Wanting to be liked means being a supporting character in your own life, using the cues of the actors around you to determine your next line rather than your own script. It means that your self-worth will always be tied to what someone else thinks about you, forever out of your control.

-Jessica Valenti

     

xoxo, 
BMynroe


(RaChelle-Denise)

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

No Explanation Is Needed






No Explanation Is Needed







“Why?”

A question I’ve been familiar with and always in search to answer.
“How come?”

A nagging sensation that has the ability to spread at rapid speed like cancer.

“What does it all mean?”

A repeatable question, desiring each time a different response.

“Make it make sense!”

A high priority request to be meet at all costs.


Observing and releasing pieces of the truth because the whole truth isn’t popular. The whole truth can be ugly. The ugly can be risky, so I chose not to bother.

But it all became too much, the truth began to have holes; providing answers and explanations that sounded good when truthfully I didn’t know.

The lies became the truth; the truth became the lies. Going forward with full speed, knowing the whole time I am driving blind. Racing to avoid the questions that outweigh the knowledge; trying to keep my balance on a foundation I’ve claimed to be solid.

“Why go through all the trouble, constantly fighting with paranoia and fear?”

Because releasing the admission “I don’t know” into the universe is something I’d always dreaded to hear. So I set myself on autopilot to always fix it and have it together; instead of admitting I was lost, faking it was easier and seemed better. Causing more harm than good; avoiding instead of accepting. Stuck in a routine of “making it look easy” when it couldn’t have been more perplexing!

“Answer the question!”

An imperative demand as if I am on trial; warning me with high alert to not say the wrong thing that will forever be kept on file.

How I OBJECT to it all!

I can no longer stand to be cheated! I will no longer be a slave to the never ending questions that have been heeded, planted and seeded. No more politics running the show. I rebel!

Let the record show, I will no longer feel intimidated by the self-entitled questions when I respond:

“No Explanation Is Needed.”

@BMynroe

(RaChelle-Denise)