Sunday, November 30, 2008


This time last year, I went to California to help my girl celebrate her 16th anniversary of turning 21-years-old. The night of her birthday, we went to the Temple Bar to go see one of my favorite-favorite artist, Frank McComb. While waiting on Frank to hit the stage, I had a couple of drinks with the folks in the party we were in.

While I was sipping on my second drink, this brotha came over and introduced himself to me. He told me he was a friend of the birthday girl. Because he told me that he was a friend of my friend, I decided to smile at him and be friendly.

Confession time... unfortunately, I'm known for being a little socially distant/shy/stand offish/snoody when meeting new people. I guess it's all in how you interpret it.

The truth is that I am sometimes a little quiet, reserved, and distant when I meet folks for the first time. But it is certainly not because I'm rude, stuck up, or an elitist. It's because I am still, after all this time, a little insecure about being blind. I never know how folks will respond to my blindness. Plus, I sometimes am unsure of my first-time communication with folks because I don't have the added benefit of interpreting nonverbal cues. (That's the communication teacher in me.)

Getting back to my story... I guess the brotha perceived my smile to be an invitation to start flirting. He leaned over and whispered in my ear that he thought I was "beautiful". I smiled, and politely thanked him for his kind assessment of B-Angie-B.

He continued to talk to me, making small talk about music, the artist we were there to see, and a couple of other things that was not really all that important. Even though I wished that he would shoo, mainly because Frank had hit the stage at this point, I continued to smile and be polite. Finally, the brotha said he had to go. "Great!", I thought. But before he left, he asked if he could get my contact info. I told him I would pass it to him through our mutual friend. (I needed to ask about him before giving the digits.)

The next day, the brotha text messaged my friend and started asking questions about me, like "Does she have a man?" You know, all the usual inquiries...

He then asked my friend for my contact info. Because my friend said that he was for the most part safe, but not really good looking, I told her to give him my e-mail address. If he had been cute, he would've got the 10 numbers.

Second confession... I can be a little shallow at times when it comes to looks. I might be blind, but I know what once pleased these eyeballs of mine. I know... I'm trying not to have looks on my little list of qualifications...

Back to the story... Well, the guy started telling my friend that he didn't think he would've ever been attracted to a disabled girl in his life. He told her that when he normally thinks of a disabled person, he thinks of someone old, pitiful, and not as attractive as me.

He also told her that when he's encountered people with disabilities in the past, he always thinks about what he can do "for them". But he said when he met me, he imagined what he could do "to me".

Oh yes, grown folks... The brotha was a little tripped out because he was having nasty thoughts about a blind chick. He felt a little embarrassed and creepy to be thinking about a disabled person in that way.

My friend reassured him that I was a normal woman; and despite my disability, I was capable of being a desirable woman.

I don't know about all of that... But what I do know that before I am blind, I am a woman. Desirable... I don't know... But having desires... Yep....

I thought it was a trip that this brotha was so uncomfortable that he was having desires to do something "to me" rather than to do something "for me", which is the typical response of a nondisabled person to a disabled person. But it made me wonder how many men have that "embarrassing and intimidating" thought about me. Perhaps there are some men that shy away from their attraction to me, just because they feel like they really shouldn't be having feelings like that about someone with a disability. **shrug** Maybe that’s why I spend so many weekends at home, typing on this computer of mind. **smile**

What do you think?

**To my girl: Happy Birthday!!! Sorry I wasn't able to get to you this year. But as I told you, I really-really wish I could've helped you celebrate your 17th anniversary of your 21st birthday. Perhaps next year, we can plan for a out of this world birthday experience.

I love you. And be blessed.


Lumped in Together

Last night, my mother and her youngest grandchild, Jasmine, was sitting in the gameroom watching Noggin, which is what they do every evening. I was sitting in the room checking my e-mail, trying to not get distracted by the entertaining, yet educational programming that was loudly being played from the television. Jasmine started commenting to her grandmother about some of the things that she was seeing on television. Although I was trying to tune them out so that I could pay close attention to what I was doing on the computer, I still heard Jasmine's little voice telling Mama about a little boy that was on television.

"Granny, that little boy is really sick, and he's blind too."

Well, since she was watching Noggin, I was trying to figure out what in the world was on television that had a little, sick, blind boy. Usually, Noggin has programming on there that is happy, light-weight, and animated, in all sense of the word. And there's nothing happy, light-weight, and animated about a sick, blind boy.

I asked my mother what Jasmine was talking about. Mama said that it was a little boy in a wheelchair that was playing with other nondisabled kids in the commercial. She said that she didn't know why Jasmine said that he was sick and blind.

I asked Jasmine why she said that the little boy was sick and blind. She began to explain to me that the little boy was in a wheelchair because he was sick. And she also stated again that the boy is also blind. I asked how she knew that he was blind. She stated that she "just knows that he is because he's in a wheelchair."

After trying to figure out what kind of logic Jasmine was using to draw that conclusion, I am left to presume that Jasmine associated the boy's disability of being in a wheelchair with my disability of blindness. She couldn't separate the disabilities. I guess in her five-year-old mind, one disability is all disabilities.

Jasmine realized that something was definitely wrong with the boy. She didn't know what to call it. So, she called it sick. And I guess she called it blind too.

Does Jasmine think I'm sick too?

Well, most likely...

And it probably has something to do with my watered down explanation ofwhy their auntie started losing her sight. Because I know they don't understand complex terms, like Glaucoma, Uveitis, and optic nerve damage, I simply tell them that I lost my sight because I
got really sick when I was a little girl, which is actually the truth. It may be a quick paraphrase of the truth, but it is indeed the truth.

I explained to the rabbit that just because the little boy was in a wheelchair does not mean that he's blind or sick, for that matter. She still didn't get it. She insisted that the boy in the wheelchair was both blind and sick, two descriptions that she probably thrusts upon anyone that she realizes is "disabled".

I suppose as my niece gets older, she will better understand disability, and she, will realize that all disability is not the same. Likewise, she will learn that disability does not mean "sick". I hope that the way I live my life will be the best tool to teach her all that she needs to know about disability and how it impacts, both children and adults.

I also pray that as I interact with individuals in the community, they will also develop better perceptions, attitudes, and information regarding disability. So often, when I come in contact with individuals at church, in the malls, at restaurants, and wherever, people assume that just because I can't see, I also can't hear. They talk loud to me, get inappropriately close to my face and exaggerate their words.

Often times, I come in contact with individuals that speak to my family, asking them questions about me, even while I'm standing there. I'm not sure if they think that my blindness qualifies me to be mute or just plain incapable of making decisions. There are some who even talk to me like I'm a five-year-old. I am left to assume that they believe that blindness also equals some type of severe learning disability. I don't know...

But what I do know is that Jasmine is not the only one guilty of lumping all disabled folks in the same barrel.

Boy, I got a lot of work to do.

Friday, November 21, 2008


A few days ago, a friend of mine called me to clarify something that he knew to be certain regarding me. Before asking me the question, he prefaced it by stating that he had to ask me something that may appear to be a little strange. Because I know that this brotha is not the type to say or ask anything off the wall, I told him to shoot, never considering that bracing myself for an odd response was necessary. Because he was certain that he already knew the answer, he asked me the question with silent confidence.

"Do you still blink your eyes now that you can't see?"

"Um, yes... Why did you ask me that?"

Well, he begin to explain to me that his professor at the seminary he attends told the class that blind people don't blink. He said that the professor said that once the person is blind, the nerves in the eye are dead, and the involuntary reaction to blink the eye ceases.

Because my friend knew that bit of info that the professor was giving to the class was not true for all people, he raised his hand and told the professor that the blanket statement that the professor was trying to wrap around all blind people was not true. The professor asked my friend how did he know. My friend said that he knew that some blind people blink because one of his closest friends is blind.

I thought it was hilarious that the professor really thought that people who are blind do not blink their eyes. First of all, blinking has nothing to do with sight. Secondly, blinking is not something that we control or desire to do. We do it because it is an involuntary function of the eye lid, not the eye ball.

I'm going to take it a little bit further. I had my left eye removed a few years ago. I now have a prosthetic eye placed in the socket for cosmetic purposes. Well, the eye lids still blinks over that "fake eye" every couple of seconds, much like it would if that eye was real and could see.

Oh well... I heard worse stereotypes about the blind...

Thursday, November 20, 2008

A Quote that Blessed Me: (Thought I would share...)

"If we can let go of how we think life is supposed to be, we can actually enjoy what life is...."

I read this on a comment string on a blog that I frequent pretty regularly. As soon as I read it, it struck me deep. What wisdom!

Hopefully, the wisdom in this statement blesses you the same way it blessed me. Furthermore, I pray that I will actually apply the wisdom found in this profound perspective on living. Then perhaps, I will begin to enjoy this life of mine.



Sunday, November 16, 2008

Technology Frustrations

I'm taking an on-line class to become certified as an on-line instructor at the college where I teach. It is so frustrating trying to learn tecnology that wasn't designed with accessibility as a priority. I think I can get through the class. But I'm having to work a lot harder than my classmates. At least that's my assumption... And I put money on it that I'm right.

I don't know if I need to request some level of accommodations to help me be successful in the class or what. And a small part of me would like to just stay away from the on-line opportunity, and just stick to the traditional learning environment, the face to face classroom.

But I know that if I back out, I will be taking the punk route. I don't want to give up. So, I won't. I'll just keep pushing and trucking along, like I usually do. Perhaps taking longer than everyone else to get it done... But nevertheless, getting it done...

And if I decide I like the traditional classroom better than on-line, it will be because I like it better. It won't be because I failed. Because failure is not an option for me.

Well, I'll let you guys know the outcome of the class, as well as my intentions and/or preference for an on-line teaching opportunity verses the traditional setting.



Thursday, November 13, 2008

Wow!!! I was nominated to receive a Brilliante Blogger Award!

It's always amazing to me that people all over the world stop by my little spot on the web and read some of the content I have posted on Nuvision. It's even amazing to me when people comment on how they think that my blog is significant and a definite need in the blogosphere.

The other day, I took a little time to check out some of my favorite bloggers, as well as some bloggers that I have found to be interesting and potentials on my "favorite blogger list." While reading, I ran across
this blog entry over at Black on Campus.

I was quite honored that Ajuan Mance, the author of Black on Campus, thought highly enough of the content of my blog to mention it on her blog, let alone give my blog some type of recognition. And for that, I'm extremely thankful and humbled.

The Brilliante Blogger Award comes with some responsibilities. The Rules are as follows:

1. The winner can put the logo on his/her blog. (Since I can't see the logo, I will skip over this rule. **smile**)
2. The winner must link to the person from whom they received their award.
3. The winner must nominate at least 7 other blogs for the award. (I'm only nominating six bloggers.)
4. The winner must place links to those blogs on their own blog.
5. The winner must leave a message on the blogs of the people they’ve nominated.

With no further avail, I would like to nominate the following bloggers for this award. Each of these bloggers have been an inspiration to me. They always have fresh content that is filled with insight, wisdom, and authenticity. I hope that you check them out, visit them often, and perhaps subscribe. Congratulations to the following bloggers. You're an inspiration to me and all of us who reside on the world wide web.

Mirror on America

Lovebabz; A Life in Transition

The Thinking Black Man

Excerpts from the Diary of a Diva

Faith in Action On Line

Keep it Trill

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

It Takes a Strong Man...

A few weeks ago, I was having a conversation with a brotha that I've been knowing for nearly fifteen years. In this conversation, he announced to me that he and his girlfriend had decided to go ahead and tie the knot. After hearing his good news, I got to wondering if I was ever going to be able to give someone that same news. But the truth is: If my prospects continue to look the way they've looked up until this point, the only knot I'll get to tie is possibly in my tennish shoes.

I asked my friend, being that he is a highly opinionated lover of the opposite sex, why did he think that I continued to not have any viable prospects from year to year. Well, he began to break down what I've always known to be true, but hoped that it was just my imagination.

He told me most men do not want to date and/or marry a woman with a disability, no matter how cute she is. And he went on to say that the strong brothas, who are secure, responsible, and caring, would be at the top of the food chain. He said that strong brothas like that have the pick of the crop. And if they can pick whatever they want, they are going to pick the one that has the least amount of drama and issues.

My heart was kind of saddened by this. I already know that it's going to take a strong man to be okay with having a blind girlfriend. But I was hoping that instead of that man going for the easier situation, he would step up to the plate and come for me, especially if he and I were meant to be connected in that way.

Will I get a chance to tie that knot one day? I guess only time will tell.

I thought it would be nice to pass this along.

**While doing some searching on the net, I ran across these brothers. I thought it was exciting that these brothers, who are now disabled due to gun violence, are now lending their voice to the world to educate society about disability issues, as well as to advocate against gun violence. Check them out.**

4 Wheel City is an urban entertainment group and disability awareness movement started by Namel "Tapwaterz" Norris, rapper, and Ricardo "Rickfire" Velasquez, producer, two talented hip-hop artists who use wheelchairs since sustaining injuries from gun violence. Their mission is to use hip-hop music and culture to create more awareness and positive opportunities for people with disabilities, to inspire people not to give up in life, and to raise funds for spinal cord injury research.

They hope to show the world that people with disabilities have talents, dreams, and the right to be treated equally. In addition, their experiences have moved them to be allies in the war against gun violence. Gun violence has a devastating impact on the community and across the world. By educating the community of its consequences, Norris and Velasquez hope to encourage action and make a difference in the fight against illegal guns and inner city gun violence.

The wheelchair duo calls their act "rap therapy."

The tour will consist of both musical performances and speaking engagements to build awareness about disability issues. Both Norris and Velasquez, along with their manager Gary Delamothe, announced the tour on October 15, 2008 from New York's City Hall in conjunction with the Mayor's Office fifth annual Disability Mentoring Day.

For more info on 4 Wheel City please go to their home on the web.

This Week in the Life of Angie (Part 3 of 3)

**This is the last edition to the series of post that discusses my week, which at this point was last week. I'm so glad that crazy week in now in the past, and I can now hopefully create better results this week. So far, I'm at a pretty good start.**

Wednesday morning, I asked one of my sisters to read to me. I didn't ask her to read a comic strip from the morning paper, or one of the historical front page articles about President-Elect Obama's victory. I asked her to read one of the chapters in the textbook that I teach out of.

As usual, not being a morning person, my sister sluggishly drug herself out of bed to help me. In the midst of her reading, she and my other sister got into their usual shouting match. Next thing I knew, my sister, the reader, closed the book and marched to her room, stating that she wasn't going to read.

I was stunned by her decision to not read for me, especially since I hadn't done anything to her. I was also tripped out because my sister knew that she was reading something for me that I needed that day, not later on. I called for her to come back. But she refused.

After she refused, I went into a rage. Tears poured from my blind eyes as I thought about how unfair it was for someone, a physically able person, to deny someone with a disability assistance, just because they were pissed off.

With every second, I begin to feel helpless, hopeless, and betrayed. The tears rolled down my face even more.

And then, the hurt that I was feeling switched to rage when I thought about all the things that I do for my sisters, things that they can certainly do for themselves, in the name of love and support. I got pissed that the people who live in the home that me and my disabled mother provide would even consider withholding disability related assistance. I begin to scream, curse, and cry more.

This was truly a first for me. I'm not a physically aggressive person at all. I've never been in a fight in my life, even before I lost my sight. It's just not me.

This is why I resent all of the conflict, fussing, tension, and fighting that goes on here at my house. While it may be my mother and sisters' style of managing conflict, it is not mine. I honestly prefer to keep quiet at all cost. The only reason I get involved in many of the conversations around here is to referee fights, defend my mother, and because my money is involved in many of the issues here at this house.

I love my folks. But I look forward to living alone. And it's not for the selfish reasons that they want to live alone. They want to live alone so that they can do what the hell they want to do, so they don't have to follow rules, or respect our sick mother. I want to live alone, just so I can have a little peace.

Part of the reason why I stay up at night is because that is the only time my house is quiet. It's a shame that the early morning hours is the only time that I can enjoy the sweet music of silence. Otherwise, as soon as the folks in my house start waking up, fussing also rises with them. (It's 5:20 AM. I've been up since midnight.)

I'm kind of reluctant to post this on my blog. I don't want my folks to get mad at me. But they stay mad at me anyway. Plus, this entry is a reflection of the absolute truth. And it is also documentation of the life I live.

My friend, Chad, asked me if my sisters move out who will help me and my mother with some of the things that requires good physical abilities. I told him that I would like to think that my family would be willing to assist us without being residents of our house. Families do that all the time... If there is someone in the family that needs a ride to the store, the person comes and takes them to the store. Why do me and my mother need a live in to help us out from time to time?

I also reminded Chad that people with disabilities, even blind people, live alone and effectively manage their homes. I also told him that people with disabilities marry and have children.

For the most part, I understand that living alone would be a challenge. But what aspect of my life is not a challenge?

I'm confident that I could do it. I did it the entire time I was in college. Yes, I lived on campus. But I lived alone. And each everything that I needed assistance with, I just called on someone to come over and help me. I imagine that's what I would have to do if I lived alone here in Houston.

"My God will supply all of my needs according to His riches in glory." Phil. 4:18

That's one of my favorite scriptures. I cling to it. Because no matter what, while my sisters, my daddy, my mother, and friends have all been helpful, I realize that my help comes from the One above. I realize that He inspires and motivate my folks to offer themselves up as helpers. And I'm certain that if none of them were around to help, God would send someone else. That's how He works.

**Believe it or not, I left some very poignant details about other experiences that I had last week. But I don't have the energy to re-lieve them. Perhaps I will later touch on them in a future post.
In closing, I sho' pray that this week is a better week than last week. I can't take another week like that.
By the way... Right now, while I'm writing this post, I'm listening to the Smooth R&B channel on my Comcast Music Choice. Vivian Green's Emotional Roller Coaster is playing in the background. That song captures the feeling that I experienced last week.
Peace and blessings,

Sunday, November 09, 2008

This Week in the Life of Angie (Part 2 of 3)

This week, I reached a breaking point as it pertains to my family. One of the reasons why it was so hard for me to fully splash around in the sheer excitement of President-Elect Obama's victory was because my family was acting such a fool this week. My sisters and my aunts were acting like they didn't have any sense. But this post is about my aunts.

My mother has two living sisters, and both of them suffer from mental illness. And the tripped out thing about mental illness is that usually the person with the mental illness has no clue how sick they are. Another awful thing about many folks with mental illness is they are often noncompliant. They don't like to take their medicine. So, the management of their illness is terribly difficult.

The aunt that is less sick, but certainly more annoying, feels that my sisters and I, but mainly me, should be doing more to help her with my aunt. She calls over here and curses us out, upsets my sick mother by telling her she should be doing more, and she even wishes damnation on our family for not being what she thinks of as "Godly."

It is actually in my nature to help whenever there is a need. But here's the problem. I am disabled too. And while I might be a bad sistah, I already have enough resting on my shoulders when it comes to managing my life and taking care of my very sick mother. Plus, my aunt that is calling for us to help her with the other aunt is just plain mean and awful. I refuse to put myself in the position to be abused. When I was a kid, I didn't have a choice. But now that I'm an adult, I choose.

Well, because we weren't responding to her many calls for us to let the aunt come and live with us, she started leaving crazy a$$ messages on our voice mail. And guess who she was directing the messages to? You got it. Me...

This woman left several messages telling me, her blind niece, how God was going to "allow something so bad to happen to me that I was gon' be on my back, crying out for the Lord to come and help me." She went on to say that this awful thing was going to come in a form that I was ready for, in a form that would leave me confused and messed up. And she ended her messages by saying that it is her prayer that "your demonic black ass is able to get a prayer through to God to help you through this tragedy."

What an aunt!!!

Here's what I don't get. Why in the hell would an aunt, the sister of one of your parents, wish such evil on their niece or nephew? Why would someone that swares they are a Christian, someone that holds up the banner of the Church of God in Christ, someone that believes they are filled with the Holy Spirit, think it is a Godly idea to literally try to curse the futures of anyone, let alone a family member?

At this point, I'm used to my aunt's ridiculous charges, curses, and abusive ways. However, I'm sick of it! I will be so glad when I don't have to have any contact with this woman.

I guess you might ask, why do I have contact with her now. Well, because I live with my mother. And as long as my mother is living, I will not restrict her sisters, even though they are off the chain, from calling her. At this point, as ridiculous as they are, they are the only folks that consistently call and check on her.

Well, since all of this went down earlier this week, my aunt, the one that is more sick, was admitted into the psych hospital. She's been off her meds for two months. They'll get her back on them. And she'll be fine again for two months. And I'm pretty certain she'll cycle again into her "I Don't need to take medicine." self-diagnosis.

**I told you I had a crazy week. And I'm not through yet. Check me out later today with the last installment.**

Saturday, November 08, 2008

My Mama

A moment ago, I was walking down the stairs, going to the kitchen to get the water bottle that I put in the freezer earlier tonight. On the way down, I almost tripped over my mother, who was sitting on the stairs, slowly scooting her way down, one step at a time. I scared her; And she certainly scared me. I'm so glad that I wasn't running down the stairs, like I normally do. Otherwise, I would have certainly either flipped over her and went head down to the ceramic tile, or I would have pushed her down the stairs. I shutter at the thought of both possibilities.

As I stood on the steps behind her, waiting for her to gain her composure, my heart bled with compassion for the woman I know as my mother. She scooted to the side of the stair that she was sitting on so that I could pass her. I slowly walked down the rest of the stairs, feeling my leg brush against her feeble body.

My heart begin to weep as I was rushed to the realization of how sick my mother is. I felt sad that the vibrant woman that I once knew is now sick, weak, sometimes confused, sad, frustrated, and dependent on a family that doesn't quickly rush to care for her. I was suddenly pissed that my mother was being forced to live a life with such great deficits. It feels so damn unfair!

My mama doesn't deserve this. She's only done the right thing over the years. She's served her community by teaching in one of the most challenging parts of Houston for 25 years. She's been a good mother, never side stepping her responsibility to provide for, protect, guide, and support her four daughters. She's been a good sister to the sisters who now criticize her for not doing enough, even though Mama is so sick. She's been a good friend to all the damn people who pretend like she's already dead. She was a good wife to the man that she called husband for nearly 15 years. She was a good church member to the various churches that she invested her time, talent, and money into.

This is why I don't understand why this had to be. Why does my mother have to suffer so much? Why does she have to be so sick?

I wish there was something I could do to ensure that Mama experienced some happiness. The grandkids do bring some happiness to her. But I feel that she needs something else to make her smile.

Lord, I'm begging you to allow my books and plays to be a success before my mother passes to come rest with You. I want to be able to take her on trips, to nice restaurants, buy her nice clothes, and keep her hair done. And the only way I can do that is with some money. Lord, please help a sistah out.

To my mother: Mama, I'm so sorry that this has happened to you. But I know it's going to be alright. Stay strong, and stay determined. It's not over yet.
A stroke is not the end. and disability is not death. So, as long as you are alive, let's hope for more recovery, good times, and more opportunities to enjoy life.
I love you so much!
Your oldest daughter,

First Lady Michelle Obama (Ooh, it felt good to type that!)

Earlier today, I was talking to a couple of friends about the Obama Victory. We talked about how great it was that President-Elect Obama was able to defy the odds, and go on to be elected President of the United States.

We also talked about how great it is that we not only have our first African American president; but also how we have our first African American first lady. Michelle is a shining example to the world that African American women can be smart, kind, supportive, charming, strong, confident, gentle, loving, and responsible. You talking about a Proverbs 31 Woman... This sistah is bad!

I'm so glad that Michelle Obama is going to serve as our first lady. But I'm also glad that she will be a positive image of an African American woman to not only Americans, but the entire world.

Thanks to various agents of socialization, primarily hip hop, the world sees black women as hoochies, video hos, big booty pole dancers, and gold-diggers. In fact, it is quite common for hip hop artist to refer to the women they are in contact with (black women) as bitches.

And other agents of socialization, such as television and news, try to paint Black women as being angry, loud, mouthy, and aggressive. They even tried to do this to Michelle. But the sistah gracefully declined their offer to paint her with a broad brush. She handled herself with class and sophistication, even when they were coming against her hard. And I'm sure that they will continue to challenge her gracefulness. But I am confident that Michelle will gracefully and tenaciously show them that a Black woman is able to balance the lion and the lamb.

I'm also glad that First Lady Obama will be able to be a positive role model to not only her daughters, but also to little African American girls and teenagers. They will know that they too can achieve their wildest dreams by working hard, by staying committed, and by insisting on the best options for their lives.

And finally, I'm hoping that Michelle Obama's presence in the White House with her man, Barack Obama, will show the world that black love still exists; that black women are capable of being wives, not just baby-mamas; that a successful black man can find a black woman endearing; and that a black family can be in tact.

Thank you God for sending us one of the baddest sistahs around. May God richly bless, empower, protect, enlighten, and prosper First Lady Michelle Obama, one of my newest role models.

Friday, November 07, 2008

This Week in the Life of Angie (Part 1 of 3)

This week, I've been on a wild roller coaster of emotions. I've gone from nervous to confident, from fearful to courageous, from mad to forgiving, from disappointed to thankful, from doubtful to faith-filled, and from subdued to excited. Since Monday, I've been fighting off the feeling of depression, which comes to haunt me the week before my cycle. I've been in a rage when someone hurt me, a rage that was totally out of character for me. I've shed tears of joy, sadness, and anger this week. I've been a tad bit intoxicated two nights of this week, which is highly unusual. And I've been spiritually intraspective every since Sunday, taking the time to consider the possibility of reuniting with the body of believers, as a church member, that is.

This is one of the reasons why I haven't been able to effectively write about my Obama experience this week. Sandwiched between his and our victory on Tuesday was a great deal of family drama. Yes, I was glad for President-Elect Obama. But it was hard to relax in the excitement and pure joy, because my folks, the people that reside in the same four walls as I do, insisted on disturbing my happiness. But even still, I cannot forget about the significance of what happened this week.

This week, Barack Obama, my preferred candidate for president, was elected to be the commander and chief of a nation that once kidnapped, stole, sold, bought, and abused African men, women, boys, and girls. This week, an African American man, who has a foreign sounding name, was elected the commander and chief of a nation that has proven to have xenophobic and racist beliefs. This week, it was confirmed that an African American man, his African American wife, and their African American daughters would move into the White House, a structure that was built by African slaves, but only for White Americans to call home. What a week!!!

**To be continued...**

Congratulations President-Elect Obama!

My heart is overwhelmed with gladness, cultural pride, and excitement now that Barack Obama, my preferred candidate for President of the United States, has finally won the election.

President-Elect Obama, his graceful wife, Michelle, and their beautiful daughters will be moving into the White House. And they're not going in as cabinet employees, the housekeeping service, or even as guest. The Obama's are going to the White House with the title of First Family. (Isn't that something?)

Honestly, I have very few words to clearly articulate what all of this means to me. I wish I could write more. But I feel like I'm already rambling. Perhaps in the coming days, I will be able to write more about this historical victory.

President-Elect Obama, I am incredibly proud of you. I pray that our Master, shield, protect, and guide you as you continue on this journey to fulfill God's destiny for your life.

Blessings and power,

Angela Braden

Tuesday, November 04, 2008


Voting is not just a right; it is a responsibility.

Take the time to go the your poling locations to cast your vote for either Senator Obama or Senator McCain. Of course, Nuvision would like you to vote for Senator Obama. But the most important thing is that you get the poles and let your voice be heard, no matter what you are trying to say.

Also keep in mind that we are not only voting for the top of the ticket. There are many important races that need to be decided today that impact the local communities.

So, cast your vote today. Make a difference in your state, city, and/or county. Stand up and let the world see that Americans are excited and committed to being apart of the political process in this country.

Now, for all of you undecided folks: When in doubt, vote Obama. Nuvision for a Nuday wouldn't suggest that you do anything that wouldn't be the best option for you.

Make today count!

Make your opinion count!


Monday, November 03, 2008

Vote for Change!!!

I'll remember October 30, 2008 for the rest of my life. That unforgettable afternoon, I was able to cast a vote for Senator Obama to be President of the United States of America.

I voted for my darling mother, a retired school teacher of 25-years, who has been permanently disabled due to a stroke.
I voted for my babies, Jasmine, Joseph, and Gabrielle, hoping that my vote would contribute to the possibility of a safe and prosperous life for them when they graduate from children, to teens, to young adults, and to their mature years.
I voted for my father, Thurman the Plumber, who is and always have been a hard working, tax paying, proud American.
I voted for my family member, who cannot vote because Texas has stolen her right to vote, along with thousands and thousands of others, due to being on community supervision and/or in prison.
I voted for the millions of Americans with disabilities, who deserve to have a "real" advocate in the White House, one that is truly interested in looking out for people with disabilities.
I voted for all the black boys and girls, who needed a current day example that they really can be President of the United States when they grow up.
I voted for all of my brown brothers and sisters, who have come to this country, hoping for a better chance at living their dreams.
I voted for all the students, who are dropping out of high school, partly because of a lack of educational supports and services designed for that particular population.
I voted for all the older African Americans, who thought they would never see a Black POTUS in their lifetime.
I voted for all the working class people in this country, who should have someone in the White House that is concerned about their daily struggle to live from check to check.
I voted for the millions of Americans, including myself, who are uninsured, possibly ill, definitely in need of preventive medical services, and/or in need of medical maintenance services.
I voted for my deceased paternal grandparents, who worked as share croppers in Louisiana, picking cotton for a inhumane wage.
I voted for my deceased maternal grandparents, who cleaned the toilets of racist white people that looked down on them.
I voted for my African American ancestors, who only dreamed that this opportunity would one day come for their children, their children's children, their grandchildren's children, and their great-grandchildren's children.
I voted for all of those Americans, who were uninformed and, uninspired, and too irresponsible to register to vote in this historical election.
I voted for all of the undecided voters, who I believe could not push pass their bias enough to vote for Senator Obama.
I voted for myself, a woman who honestly believes that the man I voted for will consider the concerns of the multiple demographic groups I represent.

If you have not voted yet, I implore you to go to the poles tomorrow and let your voice be heard. Cast your vote for change, change you really can believe in.

Obama 2008 - 2016

You can vote however you like