Oh God, life can be hard sometimes.

Hard like not good enough

Like fear in the pit of your stomach hard

Hard like tapping on walls that separate

you

from

yourself

Oh, but life can be sweet, sweet, sweet, you know.

Sweet like sex on Saturday night and

Faith on Sunday morning

Sweet

      like

            thin

                  brown

                           children

                                     dancing on the rim of reality

– Susan Harvey 12/13/10

I smiled at that compliment then, finding it amusing that she would deem our mother-daughter conversation successful based on my maturation, not her own.

 But now, many years later, I come from a conversation with a new friend and think the same thing about myself. “Gee, I’ve really grown.”  It was not a negative situation at all. In fact, it was a deep, thoughtful, caring conversation between two grown-up Black women about our life phases and life decisions. I listened to my new friend, whom I have admired from afar for her accomplishments and her reputation, as she talked about her prayerful and strategic decisions. And I admire her even more. And she spoke of choices that we, she and I, should make to ensure our continued trajectory in our field and in our community. And she is right. And she spoke of her sometimes stressful environment in light of her success. And I get it.

Except… I have made a very different choice about my life. Actually, it doesn’t feel very much like a choice; it was, and continues to be, more of a discovery of who I am and how I am. Not that my goals and life direction are any better than hers. In fact, I have sometimes desired to be like wonderful women like her. But I’m not. My continued trajectory doesn’t mean so much to me; or rather it means something in a different way. I do and will make some choices in spite of the effect on my perceived career and community trajectory. 

 This is not very smart, and it is not very strategic. And it makes me sad to know that some of my decisions will necessarily distance her from me, and vice versa. But I am okay with that. We are different grown up Black women on different paths. I am very satisfied with who I am, with my life mission, and with the direction in which my choices may take me. I admire her a lot and love her as a friend. But for what feels like the first time in my life, I knew instantly that I am someone different. Her wisdom is very valuable to those on her path, and I will absolutely recommend her as a mentor to others like her. But her wisdom did not resonate with me; I instantly knew that it does not work for my life. And I know that that’s okay. I am me and I am happy being me. Different. Wonderfully, incredibly, brilliantly, beautifully me. Gee, I’ve really grown.

This is my third marriage, and I am no closer to understanding myself in relation to my husband than I was 30-some years ago, when at barely-20, I first jumped the broom with husband #1. Well, perhaps a bit closer… Through a relatively recent conscious practice of critical reflection, I am learning to question my knee-jerk reactions to relationship issues. But I have not yet been able to take the next step and to actually adjust my behavior to reflect my new-found enlightenment. Okay, Susan. Feel what you feel, get mad. Then let it go and move forward. As Colin Powell says, “Get mad and get over it.” But I can’t. I hold on to this anger, wear it like a badge of righteousness. I think about it, reflect on it, but I just can’t take that step of letting go. I know I’m on my way; but I also know that I resist, resist, resist the urge to release my righteous anger. I wear it like it is the proud mantle of Black womanhood. If I allow the transformative power of reflection-in-action to free me, if I dare relax my clenched shoulders and fists and allow the robe of Black woman superiority (insecurity?) to fall around my ankles…  Then I will stand exposed, naked, vulnerable and guilty, like Eve in the Garden, who didn’t trust her experience of the God within her to keep her free and mighty and righteous without the sacrifice of blood. I am a Black woman. I am powerful. I am angry. I am angry with my Black husband who won’t/can’t save me. So I must save myself. Again. And I am angry.

Where does this come from? Partly from my experience of my mother who was also a powerful (frightened?), angry Black woman, and who encouraged me to be so. But where did that come from? From her experience of her mother, who was also a powerful (insecure?), angry Black woman. And where will it end?

My daughter, at 23, resists my attempts to indoctrinate her with my just under the surface anger and my been-done-wrong attitude. “Mom, you know you’re wrong”, she calmly chastises me as I almost plead with her to understand my point of view, to take my side. At her age and beyond, I was the same way with my mother, refusing to accept her anger as my birthright. And I swore, as my daughter does, that I would never behave in such fashion…

I am a powerful Black woman. I’ll get there. Hang with me on this journey.

This must be an illusion — this should be happening 30 years ago in Washington, DC where a freshly bachelor degreed, less wrinkled, less cynical, more energetic me would be starting a masters program in Philosophy.

But unles time travel becomes an affordable (okay, free) reality in the next few minutes, I am that 51 year old version of myself, still in Colorado Springs, still trying to wrap my aging brain around online distance graduate study in Adult Education.

But brain atrophy aside, I know, am painfully aware, that this is exactly where I belong, what I should be doing, at this point in my life.  At 21, I was clueless.  As well as a married, college drop out and almost cripplingly insecure about being a poor, Black female, with an incurable hereditary disease hanging over her head. I remember being scared — all the time.

Almost 10 years later when I returned to school to complete my undergraduate program, I was still fairly clueless. However, I had developed more coping strategies. I was on my second marriage, had 3 small children and I was on a mission. My goal was to just get the degree DONE. I was not really concerned about the course content, I just knew the degree would increase my earning ability. In a failing second marriage, I had to be better prepared to provide for my children and myself.  And I wanted the credibility it would give me as I developed and faciltated motivational and job readiness workshops. And I did it, and did it well; I graduated magna cum laude. It was an incredible accomplishment. I had earned the tuition money myself by working on special projects in the evening. I had set my goal and accomplished it. My 2 older children, then 5 and 4 attended my graduation.  A few years later I divorced my husband, bought a house, and single-parented my children in a decent suburb of Baltimore.

And now, at 50+, I’m at it again. Educating myself. It’s been more than 10 years since I took the genetic test and learned that I do not have the disease. I’m in a third, and often struggling, marriage. I’m not scared anymore. Well, sometimes, about whether I can be successful at this marriage. My children are grown and away. I have a grandson. Being lousy at corporate politics, I’ve topped out in my HR career.

I had to decide what to do next. So here I am (did I mention I’m 51?) educating myself again. This time, I am supremely independent, I have more confidence, and more emotional time and space. And I’ve learned to be still. I went through an incredible period in my 30s where I was in an extremely social mode. Very networked, very engaged, had parties, belonged to cultural groups, traveled. It worked; until one day it didn’t. I was keeping myself socially busy so I wouldn’t have to meet myself face-to-face; I was afraid I wouldn’t like what I saw. So one day I crashed, had what Merizow calls a “disorienting dilemma.”  Then I had to be still, had to have a close encounter with myself. In true me fashion, I followed that period by starting a women’s group where we focused on our spirital and emotional growth. But I digress…

During that crash period and since, I’ve learned to be still, to be introspective, to reflect. I’ve learned to enjoy being in my own company. I’ve learned to like and to love me. I am comfortable in my own skin. I’ve reaffirmed that I can’t make it without God. Now, in this graduate program, I am learning to savor learning. Though my instinct is to just get the degree done with, I’m resisting that impulse. I am learning to really experience learning – to feel it, to internalize the knowledge, to allow it to impact my life. To really savor it, enjoy it, let it roll around on my tongue like fine wine. I had a Philosophy professor in undergrad school, who, after explaining a concept, would pull his tongue and implore of us clueless students, ” Can you get a taste of what I mean?”  That was in 1975.  Now in 2009, 34 years later, I can finally taste what he meant.

I think it was Thoreau who said something like “People live lives of quiet desperation”. Well, not me. I may go through periods of desperation, but I refuse to be quiet about it. Not for long anyway.

As usual, it will be me who forces the conversation. Initiates the discussion about what’s really going on. Pushes for some kind of movement. Any movement as opposed to these stalled impasses. I will say, we need to talk about what’s going on, what’s really happening here? and here’s what I feel… and things will move in one direction or another. But I can deal with that.

So, soon I will say something. That’s what I do. Unexpressed thoughts, unformed words swell up in me until I become a toxic woman,  bloated and distended, unrecognizeable even to myself. Let’s talk it out, fight it out, work it out. And then move forward.

 Though my perspective seemed to be a very realistic and pragmatic one at the time, I cringe when I read it now. In this short time, my views have evolved to a much more positive perspective of human potential, possibilities and promise. In addition, I have come to see the importance of including elements that address the way we develop learners to approach the world.

My changing views have been impacted by my exposure to and reflection on the notion of what learning is, what it means that we are living in a “learning society”, and by my very basic study of transformational learning.  My very simplistic initial view of learning as transmission (or reception) of knowledge has radically changed to a view of learning as ongoing meaning construction that transforms the learner.  This meaning construction occurs where the content and the learner’s experience intersect.  David Kolb speaks of learning as “not so much the acquisition or transmission of content (meaningless learning), as the interaction between content and experience, whereby each transforms the other” (meaningful learning) (Holton, Knowles & Swanson, 2005, p. 197).

 So, my evolved philosophy of education is as follows:

The purpose of education is to develop individuals into critical-thinking life-long learners who live meaningful, growth-oriented lives, and are engaged citizens and shapers of society.

 For me, education develops people who approach the world as critical thinkers and who are engaged in:

• Meaning construction
• Personal transformation and growth
• Social interaction and engagement
• Societal change

 In this view, we are no longer merely effective citizens, but we are engaged citizens, developed not just to respond to society, but to actively interact with and impact society. And this is not just for the talented tenth. The goal of education is to prepare children to be free thinking and critical thinking citizens who reflect upon issues, question the status quo, challenge personal and societal norms, and work collaboratively with global partners to solve world problems. Education’s purpose is to develop learners who are intellectually curious; who continually seek opportunities in this learning society for growth, personal development and fulfillment, and social transformation. Education should develop learners who, as Merizow says, “reflect on their self-images, change their self-concepts, question their previously internalized norms (behavioral and moral), and reinterpret their current and past behaviors from a new perspective…” (Holton, et al, 2005, p. 106).” Education should empower learners to change their lives. And, as in Paulo Freire’s approach, personal empowerment and social transformation are inseparable processes (Baumgartner, Cafferella & Merriam, 2007, p. 140). To Freire, “the ultimate goal of education is… the action and reflection of men and women upon their world in order to transform it” (Baumgartner, et al, page 141).

References

Baumgartner, L., Caffarella, R.,&  Merriam, S. (2007). Learning in adulthood. Boston: John Wiley and Sons.

Holton, E., Knowles, M., & Swanson, S. (2005). The adult learner. Burlington: Elsevier 

 I’m going for it all — Abundance! Abundant love, abundant peace and joy and health and wealth and freedom. I will thrive by the transformative power of God’s will, by the transformative power of critical reflection and continual learning. And I will transform society.