My name is Maysin; May like the month, and sin like the bad deed that brought me into this world. And yes- I am a woman, and I do realize you have never seen a “girl” with that name. I am a passionate lover designed perfectly to defend and protect all of my brothers and sisters in this world.  My love for commas, as you will notice, is running a close race to my undeniable fetish with shoes. Heart wrenching documentaries, cross cultural travels, competitive sporting events, passionate-filled poetry, and attention-grabbing novels are just a few places I find peace and serenity. My addiction to spreading Woke-ness (that is a word in this blog spot) has led me directly to this precious spot of writing, and I could not be more overjoyed and excited.

First, before I lose your trust, let me clearly unpack my white privilege knapsack. I am a white woman, which is enough privilege in itself to get several eye rolls. I am positive that my typical white girl bubbly personality to accompany my nicely curled blonde hair has helped me land several envious career positions which I am unqualified for. I know my skin color has allowed me and some of my closest friends to escape the typical teenage run-ins with local law enforcement. Even as an adult my connections are strongly built on the fact I do not “look” like I will cause harm. And, my family is white, all of them; need I say more?

On the flip side, I do have some experience, some of which I would not want posted for my grandparents to see or even for myself to be reminded of. I think this has strategically placed me in a position of clarity; clarity not to be confused with understanding. Just as the infamous quote says, “Closed mouths do not get fed,” comparably, closed eyes do not become Woke. I had my son at the tender age of 15. Yes, I know I was a “baby with a baby,” and I am fully aware that I was too young and had no business birthing a child. My childhood best friend, my oldest brother, who my son is named after, is currently serving a harsh prison sentence of 10 years. And to accompany my collegiate education on African American psychology and culture, I have been in a committed relationship with a black man for 3 years. I know what you are thinking; having sex with a black man does not qualify me to speak on the harsh reality of being black in our society, and to that statement- you are correct. My relationship has offered me much more than just an undying lust though. Our late night deep-rooted conversations about the confusion our future biracial child will face, the struggles his black son will endure, and the harsh reality that my white son will instinctively have an easier road ahead of him has offered a point of view that was once nonexistent in my naïve mind and a motivation to stop the injustices that appear in front of me on a daily basis. My love for women came from growing up in a house filled with strong, beautiful women, to include my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. And my passion was only validated more through gender education classes at APSU.

Enough about me though, and more about what our time spent together will consist of. I am here to bring you the tea. In the words of one of my all-time favorite people, Angela Rye; you know, like that Chick-fil-A tea that’s so good but we can’t drink because they aren’t Woke yet? Yeah, that tea. My weekly southern, perfectly sweetened tea, minus the lemon (unless we are speaking about Trump and we can add all the bitterness we want to the tea), will consist of the latest and sometimes not greatest political news. We will discuss current happenings in Clarksville, because I always put on for my city. We will speak on new music, new trends, and new drama. And we will explore upcoming events for APSU and investigate some of  APSU’s promises. On a deeper level, we will speak on any police brutality that I come across, new or old. We will keep the names alive of the unjust murders that are happening in our country. We will focus on the seemingly hard task to uplift women and for all individuals who identify as a woman to receive equal rights in comparison to men. Before you say it, we know your boss is a woman and we know you really do not think having a vagina is that hard. We will discuss society’s weird obsession with whom other people, who affect them in no way, are marrying and where they are using the restroom. We will shout with our highest, loudest, and proudest voice possible that black lives matter (and before you say “but,” your high school friendship with one black person does not justify your ignorance; save it). Lastly, I will spill my misfortunes out on this blog, past and present, like sins being told to a priest in a confessional booth to remind you every single week that your mistakes do not define you.

If at the end of this journey I have provided just one person the proper know-how to identify when her thoughts are less than desirable and teetering on prejudice, my job here is done. If one reader has the confidence to now stand up for what she believes in, I am successful. If my persistent words turns one person’s blind eye into a fighting ally, this will be a task well done. If this blog changes one person’s angered confusion into open-minded clarity, I could not ask for anything more.

I will end this by saying Black Lives Matter, Female IS the Future, LGBTQ Holla at your girl, and Obama, We miss you, Daddy, come back home.