There are so many resources right now to support the Black Lives Matter Movement- ways to learn and unlearn, unpack and take action around being anti- racist and a genuine ally. If this is new work to you, it can be overwhelming to figure out where to start.
A local woman in Columbus created the following website to help navigate and take immediate action.
It's never too late,
you're never too old,
you're never too sick,
to start again from scratch.
Bishnu Ghosh
I admit, I was a little nervous going to my yoga class at the gym. I had been to proper bikram yoga classes in very inspiring atmospheres and was used to the slow and stretching pace I practice at my house. I knew myself well enough that with my newfound enthusiasm I was going to need a little more accountability to keep motivated. I sucked it up, grabbed my yoga mat and made my place within the class, in the back row, of course. My first class, she turned on the stereo and played a Michael Jackson mix. Doing yoga to Michael Jackson made me want to turn my downward dog a little dirty. My body was confused. I wanted desperately to hold my pose, but my hips intrinsically wanted to bounce around the room like Beyonce. As I held my airplane for a full minute, I reminisced about the days I thought I was going to grow up, move to NYC and dance in a studio like on the show "Fame". I loved their outfits and ability to seem weightless and I coveted the girls strong, sleek bodies. With the introduction of In Living Color, I wanted to be a "fly girl". While I secretly worked out to New Kids on the Block videos, learned every lyric to En Vogue songs, blasted Slick Rick on the stereo with my brother, I was wearing Poison and Guns N Roses t-shirts and head-banging to Black Sabbath at my 8th grade dance. Ever the contradiction. I was unstoppable, the DJ couldn't stump me. I knew every lyric and every dance move, no matter what the genre, and usually could sense what song was going to play before everybody else. Oh, middle school.
I secretly hoped that the world would follow Sir-Mix-Alot's taste in women, then I wouldn't have to worry so much about the Size 2 I was never going to see in my lifetime. At least the public's love affair with J.Lo's derrière has helped me feel more comfortable in my adulthood with my most obvious "asset".
So, my judging of the yogi at the gym may have been superficial and uncalled for; she has more than enough ammo to judge me as I try to keep up with what I am calling her "boot camp bikram" yoga class. In the long run, I think I will be thanking her for the transformation I already feel and for awakening muscles in my body I never knew existed. Who knows. Maybe there is still hope for me as a back up dancer. Although MJ taught me not to stop until I get enough, after watching the T.A.M.I show last night, dancing behind James Brown when he was on the mic, would always keep me coming back for more.
And just like that, my tendency for flight disappears. In one moment I am ready to sell everything I own and move to the coast of Belize. Then, I take a walk in my new neighborhood and I am rich with my surroundings. I marvel at the bouquet of homes that boast the bulbs they planted last fall. Sprinkled in are homes with porches that would make a city girl swoon. With each step, I am introduced to new architecture, landscaping and porch miscellany publicizing the habits of the resident. In a two mile walk, I am transported to California, Oregon, even Germany or France. These are homes where fairy tales are written, poppies are painted, symphonies composed.
The sun plays with my face as I walk beneath the trees and listen to the birds sing each other their morning glories. And in that moment, Ohio reminds what beauty this is.