There is a cute story behind this photo…
A couple of Sundays ago, I visited the Bush Doctor Juice Bar on Black Girl Magic Row. I was sitting on a high chair, dreamily looking out the window as I waited for my Sea Moss-Almond Milk-Honey smoothie, when I saw a black woman walk by, chatting away with her boyfriend.
The woman glanced at me as they passed by. Then, a few seconds later she walked into the Juice shop by herself, turned to me and said, “I just wanted to let you know that this would be a beautiful photo of you with the sunlight and everything. Just amazing!”
Then she walked out, leaving me beaming and warm-hearted. I was so flattered.
The shop was cozy and there were only a 4 of us in there at the time including the owner— so everyone took notice that this woman had walked in to say something nice to me, and asked me about it.
I turned to an older black couple who were also waiting for their smoothie, and shrugged.
“Oh well. I don’t have my phone with me, but it was a nice gesture anyway.”
They all seemed pretty bummed. The husband in the couple spoke up, “You sure your phone can’t take a good photo? I could take it for you.”
I shook my head, No.
The only phone I regularly carry on me is my Obamaphone, which I got when I returned to America in 2021 and realized my iPhone (which takes decent photos) was too vintage to use with any U.S. network.
As an Artist, I love being able to take high quality photos, and I do see the overall utility of having a nice phone—so I will eventually upgrade to something better. But in general, I’m not interested in being bum-rushed into the latest technology. I have always been somewhat of a stubborn Grandma in that way.
I also like to be present in my surroundings, and I find that “capturing the moment” often does not do the real experience any justice.
I explained this to them.
Anyway, this man seemingly did not want me to lose this opportunity to have a beautiful photo of myself, and took it to task. “It’s an opportunity for me to practice my photography!” he said.
He stepped outside to take a few snapshots of me with his handheld camera, as well as his (fancier-than-mine) iPhone. Not only that—but he also did two rounds of shoots, since the sun hid behind the clouds on the first try.
Then he emailed the photos to me, because again—my phone doesn’t do so well with opening images via text.
I sipped on my ¡delishiz! smoothie as I chatted with the married couple, whose son was working at the juice bar that day—and had a friendly conversation with the owner, who was also a black woman.
I was really happy with the photo—it turned out so pretty! But the fact that I was able to capture this moment in community with others, made it more meaningful to me.
It reminded me of why I love Brooklyn so much, and why I feel so at home here.
I feel very embraced and admired by the black community here, so moments like this happen often.
Especially around Late Spring—which is essentially the most perfect time of the year.
Most days, I literally feel like a Princess.
Several weeks ago, I wrote a post about how I regularly travel to various cities in the Mid-Atlantic to fill my cup, and how Brooklyn is one place that I particularly connect with.
Being here has been so therapeutic for me, and I’ve been able to tap into my element in some particular ways that I’m not usually afforded in my day-to-day life back home.
But in my first couple of weeks, every joy and wonder I experienced came with soft pangs of sadness and grief. I know that no matter how long I stay, I will have to leave. In that sense, my time here has felt a lot like a Cinderella story.
And I didn’t want to go down like that.
So I have been doing some journaling everyday, to think about what exactly this environment offers me, what about it feels so nourishing and reviving, why the pulse of New York City seems to runs through my veins, why Brooklyn feels like my natural habitat—and what aspects of myself I’m able to step into when I’m here that are so difficult for me to access back home.
I also asked myself what my dreams, hopes and goals are for my life, and questioned what is truly necessary for me to attain those things.
I did this journaling practice so that I can learn about myself, get clear on who I am and what my needs are, and begin to integrate those elements into my life, no matter where I live.
Overtime, my grief began to dissipate. I’d like to share what I’ve learned about myself from that process as I’ve reflected on my own past, present, and future…
…As well as a couple of mementos from this trip, including a video of me pole dancing, and a rare but extremely precious photo of me (a cat lady) being a dog Mama.