You Can’t Fly If You Don’t Jump
Currently playing: Red Balloon by Tank and the Bangas
I’m afraid of heights.
Always have been, always will be. Probably. (Is that a thing people don’t have anymore? Does it go away? Does it expire like an avocado in the night? Does it turn to mush like a banana in a lunch bag?
I mean, I used to not have allergies, but here I am, sneezing and wheezing at my big age.
So here’s hoping.
Despite me being afraid of heights, I regularly dream that I’m flying. I’ll be soaring through the sky, wings flapping, arms wide, feeling the wind, cutting the air.
And I’ll admit I wake up disappointed.
I still can’t fly.
But since I’m afraid of heights, even if I could fly, would I ever try?
Once, many moons ago, Maya Angelou came to speak at FAMU.
I was starstruck. Awestruck. Tongue-tied. I was able to shake her hand, but I wasn’t able to form a coherent sentence.
When she spoke a little later, she talked about how any human is capable of any thing. What she meant was that the people we call celebrities are human, too. The stars with the big houses and big cars still need those lawns mowed and those cars gassed—or charged—up.
Michael Jackson still needed groceries.
But it’s hard to not feel intimidated in the presence of greatness. It’s hard not to feel like I’m not worthy enough or good enough or talented enough.
When we start behind the race line, we think we’ll never catch up.
I was talking to a group of my friends recently, and I mentioned how intimidated I was when I first met them. So many of them came from money or privilege, from access or preparation, from people who just expected them to go to college or become successful.
People whose parents sent care packages and regular donations while I regularly gave plasma.
But despite our background differences, we found ourselves in the same space. At the same time. Doing the same things.
Flying. Together.
So I know how difficult it is to believe we can overcome our histories and backgrounds. I know how hard it is to trust in the future when the past was such a challenge, how hard it is to trust your wings.
I know how hard it is to get used to what you’ve never been used to.
I know how hard it is to imagine that we really can have a different life.
But we can.
I’m thinking back to all the times I’ve changed my life, and there’s one consistent piece:
I kept going even when it looked like I was failing.
I kept trying to fly, even when my feet refused to leave the ground.
Now, Mother Toni Morrison told us that if we wanted to fly, we had to give up the shit that weighed us down.
She didn’t us tell us that the “shit” might be us.
And here’s a quick recipe for a little freedom
Add something new to your existing routine. Something as simple as making a left instead of a right.
Change up a room in your house. “Turn the wigs around.”
Sleep on the other side of the bed.
Shower in the dark. Or light a candle. Or try a new album.
Eat lunch somewhere else.
If you jump a little every day, you’re bound to get off the ground.
