Tuesday 15 February 2011

I'm Back...I Think

I was a stranger in the city
Out of town were the people I knew
I had that feeling of self-pity
What to do? What to do? What to do?
The outlook was decidedly blue
But as I walked through the foggy streets alone
It turned out to be the luckiest day I've known

-George Gershwin, "Foggy Day (In London Town)"

It has officially been three years since I was the Black Girl in London. I am back in the States and still feel nostalgic for the past. London refined me into a full-grown woman. It served as the London Bridge to maturity. I first paid rent in North London. My trips to the corner store to top-up my electricity was all my responsibility, if not, candles only shined that night. The word "best friend" was challenged as I cut off my girl of four years because she was, indeed, straight tripping (don't worry she's back). As the first of a generation, I had to speak on behalf of a ten-deep generation at my grandfather's funeral. I also unraveled a twisted knot ball of the inner workings of the ultimate puzzle--love. I fell deep in the swells behind the hull of love just to be swallowed up like the Titanic, but I rose to the top. Cream always does. Put simply, I grew up.

I am nearing twenty-seven and settling more and more into my womanhood but daily am reminded of what I left behind. Today, everyone blogs, but not everyone writes. This decade has been inundated with people writing for an endless audience hoping for everybody to agree with them or just write believing "screw what you think." I am only weighing in now because of the many comments on ye old blog that I read periodically to inspire me to write. Tonight--it worked.

To griggs. who wrote "I hope you will write as long as there is breath in your body." Thank you immensely. That comment tipped me over the edge. I am the ultimate procrastinator in writing. For the past five years I have been writing my second novel. To my chagrin, I am not even three chapters into it. So I'm back...I think.

Living back in America, Chocolate City to be precise, I still carry with me the perks of London. Anytime I can just say, "When I lived in London..." And it is not to be pretentious, it is a fact. London was a part of my life. I have a friend who got tired of asking me where I got an article of clothing or an accessory, lest I say those dreaded words, "I got it in London." The sad part is, while developing into a shopaholic on the streets of London, I only wanted everything just so I could say, "I got it in London." There, I can be pretentious, especially when it comes to fashion.

Well I don't live in London anymore and it has been a transition. The long list of things I missed about America, I have not seemed to really get involved with too much. Namely, the lack of black men with swagger was my favorite complaint. However, I am starting to believe most of them live in New York City because DC is filled with black men out of jobs and their swagger just does not appeal to me. Yes, I am being pretentious again. The only sure upgrade about being back in the US of A is Mexican food. I love enchiladas. Yes. I do.

Yet, DC has made me question where my blackness fits into the landscape of all this gentrified chocolate city. And I am still not quite sure. All I know is that I am back on America's soil and hopefully back to using this blog. It is taking time to adjust to having this identity as a writer, but I need to embrace it. This entry is more of a blog, I promise the rest will be back in my usual essay style.

So, I'm Back...I know...I'd better be!

Furaha.