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Happy Sunday!
I feel like this blogpost will go well with my Soul Whisper (eh, I am going all in with this one in 2019!). I will be sharing 10 things about me. You might or might not know that about who I am, I am curious to know how many you are actually aware of 😉
Okay… here goes:

10 things about me:

1. I got my first tattoo when I was 16 years old. My Mom gave her consent after I went ballistic about it for more than two years. And she was in the room, bombarding the artist about hygiene question, the whole process. I now have seven tattoos. It is not the end of it though!
2. I got married at 19 years old. My husband actually proposed to me after 2 weeks of being together, but he officially asked my Mom after that. We are still much in love after nearly 16 years together.
3. I started my studies to become a psychoanalyst, to be a cooking chef, to be a French ASL teacher and a French/English translator. I finished none of those. That’s my one regret in life.
4. I suffer from misophonia. The fact that there is a name for that shitty thing that put my Mom and me in many fights over shared meals proved I was not crazy…
5. I started art journaling in 2008 and mixed media around 2009. But first, I was creating home décor with collage and textured stuff.
6. I was raised Catholic, went to Bible studies and got as far as the Confession. But a major life event threw me off the Catholic wagon. Then, I turned to Buddhism, and I discovered Wicca when I was around 12 and it shifted my perspective on life and on Humanity. I used to hide it from my Mom but once she knew, she was cool with it as long as I drew protection before every magical action. I created a forum dedicated to white magic that became quite big in the francophone community. Now, I am not a Wiccan but a regular Witch with a belief system of her own…
7. Dirty under nails gross me out. I am a messy mixed media artist, so…
8. I am obsessed with the Moon and anything happening in the Sky and outside of Earth.
9. One of my love languages is giving and receiving gifts. If I offer something to you, don’t doubt it comes from a place of deep appreciation.
10. I started writing in a diary since I was 7 years old. I still do my best to write every day but do not feel awful if a few days pass without it. It is partly how I process. I have had this Mémoir idea since I was 23… When my daughters ask questions about my past, I often tell them “the answer is in one of my diaries… you will know once I’m dead” 😉

Tell me something about you that could surprise me

You may know if you follow me on social media that I am an avid reader. It is part of my Soul-Care routine and I do my best to carve time for reading every single day.

For the past few years, I have participated in the Goodreads Reading Challenge. Everyone who wants to participate set up a goal of books to read during the year, and we update with each book finished. It’s really cool to have a goal to reach and to know where I’m at. I wish I would carve time to actually write short reviews for each and every book I finish.

Love Letters To The Dead – Ava Dellaira | It all starts with a school assignment: write a letter to someone dead. The main character, Laurel, picks Kurt Cobain because her sister loved him. May is dead young, just as Kurt Cobain. Laurel continues to write to several dead people (Amy Winehouse, Amelia Earhart, Heath Ledger…..) and deals with her life without her sister and something that happened that she tries to forget but can’t. This book is really touching.

All your Perfects – Colleen Hoover | I love Young Adults books, but also like when a writer is doing books for different audiences, which is the case with this book by Colleen Hoover (she’s very funny, btw, if you follow her on Instagram). This story is intertwined between “now” and “then” so we can understand how a couple’s story ended up as it was. The hurt, the obsession, the secrets they both hold are told back and forth in the timeline. What if sometimes, love is not enough anymore ?

The Dangerous Art Of Blending In – Angelo Surmelis|This book tackles a tough subject as well: being different in a very strict immigrant family, and abuse. I was wrapped in this story, mad and sad and everything in between. It’s about discovering who you are when you’re a teen, it’s also about figuring yourself out and how you fit in inside others’ expectation of you. A really good first book from this author. My heart was in million pieces while reading Evan’s story.

The Miseducation Of Cameron Post – Emily M. Danforth | This story happens between the end of the 80s and the beginning of the 90s. Cameron has lost both her parents in an accident and now lives with her grandmother and her aunt in her old-fashioned and religious city in Montana. Cameron was first relieved to learn her parents die because that same day, she kissed her best friend and was afraid of this secret. Her aunt has abandoned her former glamorous life to take care of Cameron and believes she is doing her best, out of love. This is how Cameron ends up in a Christian conversion center to fight who she is and who she loves. She meets other teens battling the same fights.

The Light We Lost – Jill Sanpopo | This story is told over 13 years. It is a story of missed opportunities between two protagonists who met in college and fell in love. Gabe becomes a photo-journalist and travels in countries in war to tell what’s happening there; Lucy writes for tv in New-York. Will they eventually find themselves together ? It was a heartbreaking book.

In Search Of Us – Ava Dellaira | This is a story that touched my heart on a core level. Told by the mother and daughter’s points of view when both were 17 years old. We follow the quest of Angie, who is looking for her unknown father; and the life of her mother Marilyn when she was Angie’s age. Angie his bi-racial and know nothing about her father and her parents’ history. Marilyn is trying to live up to her mother’s expectation as a young actress and falls in love with James, who is African-American. As a bi-racial woman, raised by her White mother from unknown father, it deeply touched me.

You Know Me Well – Nina LaCour & David Levithan | I love these two authors separately, but they worked magic together in this book. This is the story of Mark and Kate, who are opposite but create an unexpected friendship during a wild night in the city. I love stories told in alternative points of view. It’s a story about love and deep friendship.

A List Of Cages – Robin Roe | Another heartbreaking story of abuse and love. Adam has ADHD and is happy to be assigned to help the school psychologist, as it gives him plenty of free time. However, when the doc asks him to track a student who deliberately misses all his appointments, Adam recognizes Julian: his former foster brother. What happened to them while separated ? Adam knows Julian is keeping secrets… and wants to help. 

Faithful – Alice Hoffman | As a pre-teen, I fell in love with the universe in the Practical Magic movie. I wanted to be Sally… So when I discovered it was an adaptation from a book, I decided to try and read it. Oh my, yes! (if you loved the movie as I did, you need to read the book as it goes way deeper. And by the way, the story of their aunts in The Rules of Magic is just as beautifully crafted). In Faithful, there is no magical world involved, but the story of Shelby, who survived an accident that left her best friend’s life changed forever is aching and you can’t help but feel all she feels while finding herself in New York City.

Dear Martin – Nic Stone | This book is part of my “Black lives” love list. Nic Stone tackles the subject of racial relations. Justyce, the main character, tries to do his best to succeed in school despite coming from a rough neighborhood. Then, come the day where everything changes because of a “misunderstanding”. Justyce has much on his mind and uses a journal to write to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, to share what is on his mind. It’s a must-read, in my opinion.

What were you favorite books in 2018 ? Are you an avid reader as me ? Let me know in the comments, I am open to new literary discoveries.

Death is part of Life. We can’t deny that. If there is one thing we can all agree on is that will we all die eventually.

After 23 years, I came to the conclusion that grief is not really a process but a constant pressure. I started to write this blogpost on my Aunt Michèle’s birthday, on May 31st. Or the day we should be celebrating her birthday, anyway. She died in 1995, I was 9 years old and remember exactly “the phone call“.

I almost stopped writing this blogpost but on this day, two public personalities (Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain) were recently found dead, both by suicide. And it is all over the internet because of their status, but suicide happens every day all over the world. No amount of apparent happiness, of money, can take away the heaviness of depression. We don’t know anything but our own struggles. We sure feel like we can relate sometimes but it’s very personal. We navigate it as well as we can.

My best friend and I became friends thanks to Death. Sounds weird, but that’s true. I won’t enter all the details but when I come to think about it, I am glad we did. Even though I self-diagnosed myself and it took me years to put the “depression” label on my issues, I know I could have it worst. I will eventually seek a professional’s help but it is still a struggle to think about talking so we will see. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life talking once a week to a psy, that’s just a no for me (but it is not a judgement on anyone who does).

Can I learn from any lemons thrown at me ?

A few months ago, I would have answered with a “hell yes I can !“. But today, I am not so sure anymore. I keep wondering: is everything really a life lesson ? Is everything thrown at me so I can get stronger and move on ?

My aunt’s death shaped who I am today. I totally denied God and my belief of its existence (yes, at 9yo). I was more than mad at Him for letting her go; knowing how devoted to Church she was. It therefore opened me up to other religions

Now I wonder… do some events happen just because they are meant to happen ? Maybe sometimes, there is nothing positive to take out from them. Maybe, sometimes you just have to live through them and move on as best as you can. I would love to know your thoughts about that, if you don’t mind sharing them with me.

What Death is teaching me right now

• Do your best every single day you get to live on this planet.
• Be the nicest you can be with everyone you meet. You don’t know their personal battles. Don’t make assumptions about their lives.
• We are temporary but we do have an impact.
• Death is an end but also a beginning.
• It is harder for the ones left behind than for the person leaving.
• Suicide can be seen as selfish, but it is not necessarily.
• We all deal with grief the best we can.
• Fuck, we all deal the best we can, period.

Just a song..:

This is another blogpost that has been brewing inside me forever. The words and emotions wanting to get told but my mind putting a stop to it. I apologize if it feels like rambling but it was not easy to articulate into words.

I told you in a previous blogpost that it is difficult for me to identify as a Woman Of Color (ie WOC). See, for those who don’t know: I was raised by my White mother while I had no contact with my father’s side, where my skin tone comes from.

Am I just my skin tone ?

I have afro hair. My skin is really in-between white and brown. All my life, I have been either too white for people of color, or too brown for white people. Never good enough for either of those ethnicities.

For all my life, strangers have been trying to play the “where in the hell is she coming from ??” game. Tunisia, Algeria, Egypt, Brazil, India… I think I have heard it all. But no, I am French from two French parents. See, my father is from French Guiana: that very small overseas department and region of France on the South American continent. Yes, you might never have known it existed before now. And to crown it all, my Mom embraced her celtic roots when naming me with a celtic name…

Mom had no clue how to care for my hair or how thirsty my skin is. She did her best with the tools she had at the time (no internet, you guys !). I am crying typing this because my Mom, too, had to deal with ignorant people and had to sacrifice friendships when her friends knew she would be raising a bi-racial kid.

My skin tone seems to confuse others. But then… how is this my problem ?

I am constantly judged. By People of Color who seem to feel betrayed by my marriage to a White man, by White people who can’t understand what he is actually doing with me etc. I learned not to care too much about the stares and the disdain we see on their face but this is hard.

How can I identify with African Americans when I am too marshmallow for them ? All my life, I have fought to feel this sentiment of belonging. Belonging to a community of some sorts. I was raised in a white family that has no clue how difficult it was for me to be around them in public because I always felt like the duckling in the eyes of others (not theirs, thankfully).

And what about my daughters ?

This is a heavy topic for me. My daughters are both beautiful girls. In their own individual ways. While pregnant, I wondered: what will she look like ? Will she have a fair skin like her Dad ? Will she suffer with inheriting my afro hair ? etc.

Our first born (on the right in the picture) looks like her Dad: freckles, fair skin, but beautiful green cat eyes. Our youngest (on the left) is more like me but weirdly her hair makes all the difference: when we put our hands on top of each other, it looks like the same color but when we put our faces close to each other, I look afro and she does not. We say she has caramel skin. They both have the same Mom but, as I suffered as a child and teen and even adult, they are frequently asked: “which of you were adopted ? are your parents your biological parents ?” and it sucks. It hurts and creates wounds that will not go away by growing up. Mine are still deep. It was to the point that at 8, I kept asking my Mom to tell me the truth (about being adopted. Which I am not).  Who the fuck do people think they are to approach a stranger and ask that kind of things ?

Mae wants boxed braids and I keep telling her no, which is unfair. But because her brown heritage is not showing, I don’t want people to misjudge her.

My heart breaks when I realize that their skin color will cause them harm at some point or another in life.

My fear of Spiritual bypassing

See… I was raised a Catholic. Did all the Sacraments coming before marriage (we did not wed in Church, though). My Mom has always been more or less open-minded and into Buddhism. But around 12yo, I started my research of a Spirituality that would encompass what my guts feelings were and what I knew as true… There entered Wicca and paganism. I devoured books and books, looking for answers and rituals and a practice in general.

I usually KNOW where my practice comes from, like smudging with white sage for example. I do it, acknowledging and respecting its roots. But who am I to actually take this as my own ? Are respect and knowledge enough ?

My father was adopted; and Guiana is a very special place as it is French but surrounded by latin american countries that influenced its practice (of course). But I don’t know nothing about the practice of my ancestors there. Were they doing hoodoo ? How can I ask my converted Protestant Father about this without hurting his current feelings of religion ? I don’t feel like I belong to any culture and it hurts my Soul.

Both my girls are spiritually curious. My husband is taoist, I am pagan in a general sense (Wicca was not for me, eventually). They ask questions, we answer as best as we can and research when needed. Good that the Virgo in me could spend her days in books looking for answers about everything…

I wish I had the funds for these DNA tests we can order, it has been on all my wishlists for years…

I am Brown. Half-and-Half as I like to say: Mom is White, my Father is… well, his own ethnic mixtures. Even though I am on the lighter side of the spectrum, I inherited his afro hair though. You know, the Michael Jackson when he was a little kiddo kind of hair. Fluffy and big and more than curly. Afro hair. Yuck.

People seem to have a hard time putting me in geographical ethnicity (it can be funny where they think I am from. Well, just so you know I am 100% French). My hair is afro, but like for “regular” hair, different types of afro hair exist. Mine is curly, fine and not that “dense”. For a very long time (about 28 years, actually), I had absolutely no clue on how to care for my hair. I was just not surrounded by any people with the same hair type I did, youtube and the internet were not available for me as a kid, and until I turned 13/14. My hair was a hot mess, I tried everything.

Until I was about 10, my Mom refused vehemently to let me straighten my hair. We were living in Brittany, that western Celtic part of France. Let me be honest: the population of people of colour was reaaaaaally low; no hairdresser was comfortable in even cutting my hair. Trust me, it sucked big time. The only moments my Mom and I were battling each other were when she needed to brush my hair (just so you know, you are not supposed to brush afro hair, but to comb them).

Seeing all the Black stars and singers wearing such beautiful hairstyles, wondering how come they could be so pretty when I was just lame. I learned that 1) Most of the time, they are wearing a weave (so it is NOT their own hair) 2) They have hairdressers doing the work for them. It is like they are lying b*****s…

When we moved to Canada, I wanted a drastic change and cut all my hair very short. It was a liberating act. Since I never straightened them chemically again and go for the natural look. Failed attempts at colours leave me with orange-ish hair here and there but that’s okay.

Do not let your appearance define who you are.

It’s okay to change what you do not like about yourself. Whatever it is: your hair, your belly, your breasts… if it makes you happier to change this, just go for it. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise because you deserve to love the body you came in.

I often wish my hair were different. Not necessarily straight but… lighter, That they would be easier to dye so I could express my personality this way.

I am not my hair. And my hair is not me. Learning to care for and appreciate them so late in life is hard but nothing is lost. I will soon make an appointment to be seen by a curl specialist, to be helped further.

What is your favourite afro hairdo?

A couple songs I am grateful for: