I’ve often felt like I was in the middle of things. Growing up, I felt like I was in the middle of two racial consciousnesses, two cultural memories. That of my Jewish and African American ancestry. I’ve also felt like I was in the middle of my parents. Two different perspectives and needs. Two different empathies. I’ve felt like I was in the middle of my parents and my brother. My brother and my grandparents (my brother is mentioned a lot, he is very dear to me and integral to my story). In the middle of ideologies…feminism and conservative Christianity, of selfless justice and loving thyself. In the middle of global advocacy and domestic narcissism. In the middle of false humility and an authentic fear of God.
Reconciling the two things that I am in the middle of, or striving for the latter thing I am in the middle of, at any given time in my life has shaped who I am. It has given me to compassion. It has made me thoughtful . But somedays not knowing the answers makes me worry. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t in the middle.
But most recently, my mother passed away. And for the first time in my life I gave myself permission to not care. I am wedged between what weak and strong is and I am not concerned. I am not worrying about figuring it all out. I am not putting a marker on my mourning. I am allowing myself to just be. It feels liberating to give myself to the process.
I am in the middle and will be here for as long as I need to be . And I will write about it. And anything else I learn or don’t understand on my journey.
I am Sam in the middle…I am my mother’s child.
I am my father’s child too.
I love vibrant colors, spending time contemplating how to change the world, fresh flowers, a red lip,
Jesus, My husband,
Words: their source, their sound, their texture and their combinations,
Steve Madden shoes, Comfy sweaters.
I write and love.
Writing is my side hustle, I’m trying to make it my main hustle. Ya dig?
You can find me being extremely pensive or silly, it depends on the moment.
I treasure my family and friends dearly.
I can’t spell, if it ain’t phonetic
I am imperfect and I hope you will continue on this journey with me.