I am ashamed of myself. I promise in 2020, I will be more consistent. But I am happy to share my 10 lessons of 2019. I am not going to lie… some of these lessons I had to keep learning. 2019 was an interesting year for me, and I am ready to welcome the new year 🙂

1. “A little bit of change won’t hurt…”

I struggle with change. But recently though, I’ve learned to accept it. I was so used to a specific routine. To me, change could be anything. It can be something so minor but also something drastic. I’ve had both minor changes and drastic changes happen. I learned that I don’t want to stay where I am, no matter how comfortable I get. I want to be challenged. I want to learn to adjust to whatever change that comes my way. I started this year with expectations but those expectations have changed. I know it’s hard. You are so comfortable where you are, but is it helping you grow? Is it helping you discover who you truly are? Your potential? Change is hard. Any type of change. But guess what, change can be good. So welcome it, embrace it with open arms.

2.”Healing is not an overnight process…”

You know how many times I have wanted to heal overnight. I know it’s impossible, but still. Have you ever watched Teen Wolf? In Teen Wolf, when the werewolves got hurt, they would heal immediately. I know, it’s a terrible example, but let a girl dream. I’m still learning about the healing process. This year, what I did when I was supposed to be healing, I would heal with the people that hurt me. Meaning, after being hurt, I would forgive and instead of me to heal on my own, I would go back to the same people that hurt me. Thinking about it now is making me cringe. Here’s the thing though, some of us do this because we’re afraid. It could be anything. I know for me, I was afraid of losing those people, which is why I kept going back to them. This of course did not help me heal whatsoever. It made things a lot worse for me. Please, do not delay your healing process. It takes time but you need to put in effort. One day you may be good, but the next day, you will feel horrible. Healing is not a one time thing. As you heal, remember that you are constantly evolving. Find out what it means to heal. It may be different for you. Know that this is not the end. Keep going.

3. “Having expectations for people and they don’t know about them… how sway?!”

Expectations. You have to let go of them. They will have you overthink. They will have you ruined. When you have expectations for someone, you have to let them know. You can’t get mad that they did not meet your expectations. I am guilty of this. I’ve had expectations for people in my life and they weren’t aware of them. Every time they disappointed me, they would wonder why I was behaving in an odd way. Or why I was giving them the cold shoulder. If you’re going to have expectations for someone, you have to make sure to tell them. And make sure, they are realistic expectations. Make sure you also meet that person’s expectations. It all just starts by having a conversation.  

4. “Reach out when you’re in need of help or just someone to talk to…”

I’ve been told that I am strong, but to be honest I never believed it. I didn’t believe it before because when I’m weak, I try to deal with it all on my own. I deal with a lot of things on my own or seek professional help. There’s nothing wrong with seeking help from friends. Some will say that’s what you’re supposed to do. Sometimes though, it’s hard to reach out, especially when you’re stuck. However, it’s always best to have a support system. A small group of people who can be there for you when you really need it. Don’t abuse it too much though because everyone has problems they’re dealing with. If you do not have a strong support system, look at the people in your life who you know can help you. This doesn’t have to be just your friends. When you’re down and you really need help, please find a way to reach out. Because there are people who care about you.

5. “You’re not always the victim… so stop it.”

You ever been in a situation where you were the victim, but then after the situation has ended, you still continued “playing victim.” Yeah, stop it. I’ve done this before and it took me a while to be cognizant of it. It’s very easy to play victim after you have been the “real victim” before. You were hurt before. Someone manipulated you. Someone did you dirty. Yes, I get it. But, my dearest friend, when you’re in the wrong, take accountability. Take time to reflect and realize where you went wrong, and what you can do to resolve the situation.

6. “Your time will come.”

And it will. I have always rushed the process. Every process. I had a plan for everything. But, I realized that wasn’t fair for me. Most of my plans always went south because God had something else planned for me. It took time for me to accept that. You cannot rush any process… just because you have seen your friends somewhere in their life and you want to be there as well. However, you don’t know how long it took for them to get there OR what obstacles they had to go through to get there. Your time will come. It’s all about being patient and not being too hard on yourself. We all have our own books, stories, chapters. We’re all in a different chapter, pages in our lives.

7. “Rejection looks pretty, right?”

You don’t think so? Rejection is interesting because it’s something most of us fear. This past summer, I was rejected from a lot of things. From jobs to my love life. You would think I would’ve given up, but I didn’t. It’s humbling, to be honest. It made me take a few steps back. When I graduated this past Spring, I knew my potential, but I let it get the best of me. You would think that because you worked your ass off, things would come easy afterwards. Ha. I was wrong. I am not saying rejection is good, but it does humble you. In a really good way.

8. “Sometimes, people just aren’t happy for you and guess what? That’s none of your business”

It’s not your business. There will always be people in your life who aren’t happy for you. You can take it personally, but you can also let it go. One of the most important things I’ve learned so far is that YOU are your biggest supporter. I AM my biggest supporter. I published a book over the summer and not everyone in my life was happy for me. When I graduated, not everyone in my life was happy for me. Yeah, I cried about it, held a grudge, but I let go. It’s not easy of course. You want the people in your life to be happy about your accomplishments and goals, but remember that not everyone will happy for you. And guess what? It’s none of your business. Take your wins and celebrate yourself.

9. “It’s okay to outgrow people but that doesn’t mean you’re better than them”

You can outgrow your friends, family, strangers, whomever, but you are not better than them. Some of us outgrow the people in our lives because of our unique experiences. The situations, the heartbreaks, the crazy predicaments life hands us can help us outgrow some people. And that’s okay. What’s not okay is to make it seem like you’re above those people. You’re not. They may also outgrow you. Also, what you do with that newfound growth matters. Do you use it to help those in your life or do you gloat? Do you cut those relationships off or do you stay? I’m still learning this myself. And, I think it’s a lesson I will continue to learn in 2020.

10. “Why are you hard on yourself when society is already hard on you?” 

I am so hard on myself. It’s something I have tried to work on for so long, but I just constantly beat myself up for EVERYTHING. I’ve seen people who are younger than me do this and it breaks my heart. I’m a hypocrite though. I tell those young people to stop that, because the people in this world will do that for you. I tend to do this thing where I do not follow my own advice. But you get the point. People in this world will be hard on you, so why do you have to also be hard on yourself? When I say being hard on yourself, I mean, self sabotaging, negative self talk. Telling yourself you’re not good enough. Beating yourself up for the mistakes you’ve made. All of this creates more baggage for you. It’s heavy. Eventually, you’ll have a difficult time carrying this baggage. You will bring this baggage everywhere- into your relationships and workplace. However, it’s a lot of work to stop being hard on yourself. For me, I’ve taken baby steps. One of the things I started doing was looking up or creating positive affirmations. Setting the intention. Looking at Diakha, and saying my affirmations. When I make mistakes, I reflect and process everything I learned from those mistakes. It’s hard, but you can do it. 

These are my lessons. I really want to know what you have learned this year! Remember to take it easy. Enjoy your life. And share all the love you can. 

Thank you for reading 🙂

Writer: Diaka Thiam

Yesterday

Yesterday, I called my grandmother 

I asked her what it meant to be an African woman, 

To hold and protect a household, that you’ve built. 

To carry a household on your back with a single yirame, 

Tie it to your chest and your stomach, 

To quiet it down whenever it cries, pacing yourself with calmness and ease 

To feed it when it’s hungry, 

To never scream, 

Even when you’ve been told multiple times that you are just a woman, 

To claim the kitchen as your safe haven because you’re just a woman. 

But you’re more than that. 

Yesterday I called my grandmother, 

I asked her what it means to be an African woman, 

You are worthy.

black and blue

Every time she closes her eyes, she’s hoping to see that five year old girl, running freely 

A smile spreading across her face, 

Never having to worry about anyone touching her. 

Black and blue, now when she closes her eyes, she sees you, your darkness right beside her,

Coddling and holding her too tight,

Black and blue, when she closes her eyes, she sees you on top of her, your hot breath on her neck, your hands in places where it shouldn’t be 

Black and blue, when she closes her eyes, she’s telling you no, 

she now hears your laughter, 

she now sees you. 

For who you are. 

The devil in you. 

Black and blue , she now sees you. 

There is always that one person you will risk it all for. Not ALL, but you know what I mean. This is the person that changes things for you. The person who sparks this stupid confidence in you. Confidence you didn’t even know you had. So what did you do? You decided to shoot your shot. You had the ball. You knew when to shoot. In the back of your mind though, something told you to not embarrass yourself. But, you did not let that stop you.

So, you shoot the ball. And you miss.

During the summer, I met a few people who I was attracted to. When it came to shooting my shot, my confidence always fluctuated. For example, when I was an undergrad, I met this guy at an event. He was dark-skinned and a little tall. I think I was 19 when this happened, but I remember telling my friends that I was attracted to this guy. I was staring at him like the creep I was. I thought I was looking at him in a flirty manner. Of course, he noticed. Two of my guy friends at the time decided to walk me to him so I could shoot my shot. We walked over to him and I started a small conversation with him. He had a friend with him who knew what I was up to.

Knowing that the conversation went well, I asked the guy for his number. He gave it to me, which surprised me. Mind you, I was feeling good. In my head, I was like, “YES SHAWTY WE DID IT.” But we really didn’t do shit. I literally walked away like this:

Yes, I shot my shot, but I failed. I failed because he wasn’t really interested. I texted him the next day and I KNEW he wasn’t interested. So I moved on. Now, during this summer, a few people caught my eye. I’m getting older and I didn’t want to be scared of shooting my shot. Rejection happens. We know this.

The first person I shot my shot with automatically friend zoned me. No, I’m not embarrassed by it. I was actually glad they did that instead of leading me into something nonexistent. The second person was my risk. Unlike the first person, I actually told the second person, I liked him. I honestly did not care about how he was going to respond, I just wanted him to know that I liked him. I was testing things out. After I told him, he seemed surprised that I liked him. To the point where he asked why I liked him. I wasn’t phased by this at first. So, I tell him why I liked him. He thanks me and changes the topic. At that point, I was like what the fuck:

After that encounter, I told myself to take a break. I knew that if I shot my shot with another person, I was just going to continue to embarrass myself. Of course, I was shooting my shot with the wrong guys. I wasn’t looking at the ones who were actually interested in me.

If you like someone, there is nothing wrong with telling the person. You may be scared of the reaction, but at least you tried. I recommend waiting for cues to see if the other person is feeling the same way. I’m not an expert, but I just wanted to share my experience and what I have learned. If you don’t go for it, you will never know if they like you or not. You don’t have to be bold and straight up tell the person you like them. You can do things for them, giving them clues, but only if you have that patience and time.

Does this mean I am going to give up? Hell no. But I am taking a break. For those who want to shoot their shot and need a sign, THIS IS YOUR SIGN. Go for it and thank me later. If you miss, do not come for me. For my next shot, I will make it (we speaking it into existence).

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Written by Diaka Thiam

Thank you for reading! 🙂

I know, another blog post about marriage. I’m sorry but when you’re a 22 year old African woman, you are constantly asked about marriage. I recently had a conversation with an aunt of mine and this conversation left me confused. This is how the conversation went down—

Aunt: do you have a husband yet? 

Me: no not yet but auntie I’m gradu-

Aunt: no do you have a husband? Are you talking to anyone? Do you want to get married? 

Me: yes aunty, of course, but I’m gradua-

Aunt: You should be married by now. Start talking to someone. 

Me: But I am graduating.

Aunt: Oh really! Congratulations, when are you graduating?

That is it. At this point, I am beyond frustrated. I just wanted to tell her I was graduating. That’s something right? That’s an accomplishment right? Yet, marriage is the biggest accomplishment for an African girl like me. Not to my parents, but to others. I thought about what my aunt said. Did I want marriage? Yes, of course. Did I want marriage now? No, not really.

Although I have seen many of my mates get married, I am happy for them. However, the one thing that gets me are those aunties who like to compare. They tell everyone how you’re not married yet. This always makes me feel ashamed. It makes me feel like I have not accomplished the biggest thing for an African woman. But, in this new world, things are changing for African women like me. The woman has to define what her accomplishments are. Why do we let ‘society’ (meaning us) dictate what our accomplishments should be?

As an African woman, I have my own aspirations and desires. I have my own goals. My aunt had asked me if I wanted to get married. Of course I do. I would love to settle down with the love of my life (note to my future husband reading this, prepare yourself). I want to start my own family. However, I do not think I am ready. When God says that I am ready, things will fall into place for me.

I am not going to lie to you and say I do not care about being asked where my husband is. I do care. When you’re asked multiple times, there’s this pressure. The pressure eventually builds up and causes you to be anxious. Makes you constantly think about your future and how much of a failure you are. But please, to my African women who feel this way, do not let this stop you from doing the things you love and being patient. Do not let this pressure you to rush into marriage. If you really are not ready, that is okay. And if you are ready, that is okay too. Do not let people tell you that you are getting too old for marriage and no one will marry you. It’s bullshit.

So at 22, while I wait for my husband, I will focus on myself.

And to my husband, wherever you are, please come claim me because I am tired of being asked where you are.

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Thank you for reading! 🙂

Writer: Diaka Thiam

• 

I have always wanted to become a published author. Here it is. My first ever book. This book is a collection of most of my poems. I am excited to share this work with you all. Some of the poems I actually performed. I want to thank the people who motivated me to keep writing. I love writing, and I want to continue to share my work.

The Ebook/Kindle version will be published on June 1st on Amazon. You can pre-order it through here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07RXD8GX1

The paperback version is now live and you can get it here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/109926748X/?ref_=aga_h_su_109926748X_title

Please leave a review on Amazon! Your reviews matter to me. Let me know your experiences with my work (your favorite poem?) Also, if you want to, send me a picture of you and your copy of the book! (:

If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to contact me on any of my social media pages or email: deethiam@gmail.com.

Thank you! Happy reading 🙂

I have disappeared. But wait, you have to understand why it has been a while. Your girl had to finish up her degree! Two weeks ago, I graduated with my Bachelors of Arts degree in Psychological and Social Sciences. There was a lot going on in the past 6 months. My main focus last semester were my internship and thesis. I had never been so stressed out, but I made it. When I tell you how proud I am of myself, you probably would not believe me. This blog post is not me trying to brag about all the things I have accomplished in my college career. No. I have been on a long journey for the past four years.

I loved every bit of my college experience. The good and the bad. I loved the only two friends I had my first year in college. I loved that I found my passion in service my second year. I loved that I lost a few friends my junior year. I loved that I had my first love my junior year. I loved that I knew the woman I wanted to become my senior year. With every challenge that came my way, I embraced them. I mean, yes, it was hard at first, but eventually I embraced them. I will never forget the days I kneeled on my bedroom floor begging God to help me. With each tear that came, I kept going. With each downfall, I kept going. It took me years to find my support system. But, one of the main things I will always remember is how much I have grown from my college experience.

And, two weeks ago I received my degree. I had plans of course. Don’t we all? I started looking into jobs for now because I have bigger plans. Yet, I forgot that God’s plan was bigger than mine. I enjoyed my first week as a college graduate and it was the first week of Ramadan. I hung out with my friends and met new people along the way. I realized how unpredictable life was, but that was only because I was watching something about someone’s cause. Someone having to change their life drastically because of how unpredictable life was. I didn’t think the next day, I would be the one with a cause.

You’re probably thinking, “what is she referring to?”

Sunday. On Sunday, I became feverish. Honestly did not know I had a fever. Being the person that I am, I really thought I had caffeine withdrawal. Although it did not make sense. I had the symptoms of a withdrawal, yet I was fine four days without having coffee. A friend of mine told me that I may have had a fever, but as stubborn as I am I did not listen. My head pounded like it never did before. My body was weak as dying a flower. I was cleaning the house, but as I cleaned, I took multiple breaks. I was also fasting at the time, so I thought it was maybe because I was fasting. Throughout that all I did was fall in and out of sleep. When it was time to break fast, I resisted the urge to drink coffee to make me feel better. But, my mom told me to drink a little. So I did. My “caffeine withdrawal” was still not gone. I went to sleep and skipped Suhoor, but still woke up to pray Fajr.

Monday. On Monday morning, I had an interview for a job. I had to prepare for it. When I woke up though, my body failed me. Even after taking a shower, as I sat on my bed, I slept. My mom woke me up asking me if I felt better. She recommended I go to the hospital, but again, as stubborn as I am, I said no. I knew I would not win this fight with my body. I couldn’t. As I sat on my bed, my head feeling like someone threw a brick at it 1000 times, my stomach feeling like someone has stabbed it 2000 times, I lost the fight. I called my brother and asked if he could drive me to the hospital. When I arrived, I told them my symptoms. With tears falling down easily, the nurse looked at me with sympathy. I kind of hated it. They took inside of the ER and I stayed there.

Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. All of these days became a blur for me. Constantly laying on the small white hospital bed. Both of my arms with IVs. Unable to eat any foods. Wondering when I would be able to go home. The nurses coming in and out. My doctor and her med students coming in and out. My mom constantly taking care of me.

I had been in the hospitable for five days. There’s more to the story, but I’d rather not bother you with the details. It was a miserable experience. Some days were good, others were bad. Do not worry, I am good now. But why am I sharing this with you? To tell you that life is unpredictable. But you may have known this already. No matter what plans you have, life is unpredictable. I wasn’t the healthiest person in terms of going to the gym, and eating healthy. However, I think I was in an okay shape. And this happened during the month of Ramadan. I am actually grateful that this did happen. When I was younger I would always ask God, “why me?” But this time, I did not ask God that. I asked God to take good care of me, and that his plans were indeed bigger than mine.

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Authors Note: I want to thank those who were there for me through this journey and those who thought of me.

Written by Diaka Thiam

Thank you for reading! (:

I didn’t think I was going to write this post, but here I am typing away. I will not lie to you all and say that I have never dated anyone. Or, that I have never been in a relationship. Please, as we discuss my dating life, let’s not judge? I’m saying this as if it’s bad. It’s really not that bad. As an African Muslim woman, I am not allowed to date. Religiously, yes, I am not allowed. However, my parents, who are strict traditional African parents, do not want me to date. So, this is between you and I. ABEG OF YOU, when you see my parents, please don’t tell them. I, Diaka Thiam, will tell them myself.

I have always been interested in African American men. Wait, let’s back up real quick. Before being interested in African American men, I was interested in white men. But, I grew out of that phase once I started college. Now, my gaze is constantly on African American men. With that being said, my past relationship with my ex has inspired me to write this post. He is African American, and I was his first African girlfriend. While dating, I introduced him to so many things like thiebou djeune (or jollof rice), fattah (I call it senegalese empanadas), Afrobeat music, some Arabic and wolof words, etc. He introduced me to things as well, especially American phrases I didn’t understand. Phrases like ” Yo you cappin.” We learned a lot from each other.

You might be thinking, okay what is it like dating an African girl? It’s a little difficult if the girl has strict parents. Dating my ex was hard for both of us. I remember the first time he came to my house for my little brother’s graduation party. I introduced him to my dad first. We went inside of the living room, and my ex-boyfriend was behind me. My dad was laughing with my uncles about something. I stopped, looked at my dad, and said, “Papa, this is my friend.” My dad’s face dropped as his eyes moved to my ex-boyfriend. He had this mean mugging expression and my ex was shook. Down below you’ll see how it went down.

I think my dad was surprised that I had a guy friend. When I was younger, I used to play with my younger brother’s friends. There was a time I was outside with my brother and a friend of ours. My dad was sitting down outside of my mother’s hair salon, selling G-shocks. He saw me chasing this male friend of ours and then called me. I was about 13 years old when this happened. I will never forget what my dad told me. I approached the table with the G-shocks, and listened as he began to talk. “Ma, do not befriend boys. Do not play with boys, only your brother can do that.” At the time, I did not understand why he was telling me that, but as I got older, I understood. And recently, my mother told me to stop befriending males. Dating an African girl means that you will be introduced as a “friend” to the parents. Not, “Hey ma, this is my boyfriend.” But, it always depends on the girl and how strict her parents are. As you’ve read, even introducing him as my friend was a problem for my parents.

I am now mentally preparing myself to introduce my future husband to my parents. No, I am not getting married right now. However, the sooner I prepare, the better. I’m preparing for if I bring home another African American man and officially introduce him as my boyfriend, instead of my friend. And, I will not lie, I am scared. Both of my parents have told me to not have guy friends, yet I have the coolest guy friends at the moment. I think it’s my parents being overprotective, but I’m 22. I’ve realized that the older I get, the more overprotective they become. It’s not fair to me, but that’s a discussion for another blog post.

Dating when you’re not supposed to can be difficult, which is why I am officially done with that… for now. As I am getting older, I am starting to become cognizant of what I want for myself. For the time being, the focus is on me. And to my ex, if you are reading this, now you know why my dad gave you that dirty look. I am really sorry.

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Writer: Diaka Thiam

Hope you enjoyed this post! Thank you for reading! (:

The smell of hair grease. The harsh texture of the synthetic hair, also known as “horse hair.” The soft black leather seats with a small tear on each of them. The 32″ Samsung television playing the same Nollywood movie. And my mother, sitting behind one of the black leather chairs. Her right fingers holding the strands of synthetic hair, ready to braid the customers hair. Her fingers gripping tightly onto the customers kinky textured dark brown hair. The customer’s soft hiss can be heard. She is wincing in pain, as my mother begins to braid her hair and the synthetic hair together. Her fingers move swiftly until she reaches the end of the synthetic hair.

When I was younger, I loved braiding hair. I did my best to learn how to braid at the age of eleven. I would use the dolls with soft textured hair to practice. I never gave up. There was this passion, that til this day I never knew why I had it. I would practice everyday after school. I would walk to the shop from my middle school, and the excitement rushed through my body, making me walk fast. My mother let me braid the ends of the individuals (single braids). Just as fast as I can walk, I was a fast braider. And, showed off a lot. The customers would tell my mom how fast I was. I tried convincing my mom to let me braid more but she never let me. Others would tell my mom to not let me braid, and let me focus on school. As if, my love for braiding could ever exceed my love for school.

I grew up with the shop. The first shop I was in was where I learned my love for braiding. My love for Nollywood movies. My love for reading and writing. My love for the closeness I had with my mom. But it was also in the first shop, my brother and I fought, I would lose and start crying. I was a wimp. It was in the first shop my little brother would come in with a bruised face after being hit by the bullies in school. It was in the first shop I had my 10th birthday party, with a piñata full of sweets. It was in the first shop, I had my first bag of hot cheetos and fell in love. The first shop.

The second shop wasn’t so bad. But it was in the second shop where my love for braiding started to fade. My mother finally let me braid the full head. Customers started to want me to braid their hair because of how fast I was. I never talked to the customers unless they talked to me. I always had my headphones in listening to the music. I was a tight braider, gripped onto my customers hair to make the braids last longer. Vendors would come by selling African clothes and scarves. There were other vendors who sold Macy’s perfumes for a cheaper price. Then there were the hair vendors called John, Victor, and Michael. My mother would introduce me as her daughter to everyone. I would come into the second shop with my head down. I would sit in the back, either reading a book or watching something on my tablet. It was in the second shop where my relationship with my mother didn’t go so well. It was in the second shop where I considered braiding hair as a job, and my friends would laugh at me. They would tell me that braiding hair wasn’t a real job.

My love for braiding decreased, and I began to dislike it. I disliked how tired I was after braiding someone’s hair. But I pitied my mother even more. As my mother aged, the shop aged as well. Her fingers were no longer as swift as before. People are no longer coming to the professional African braiders. They are now going to YouTube to learn how to do their hair. And, I don’t blame them.

Don’t get me wrong, I still braid today. I continue to do it to help my mom. I also wouldn’t say that the passion isn’t there. It still is. But as I’m getting older, braiding is just something I do. Not something I love to do. But just something I do. However, I will never forget where braiding has gotten me. Those two shops are everything. And these memories that I have will never go away even after my love for braiding is completely gone.

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Written by Diaka Thiam.

Thank you for reading! 🙂