It’s officially Breast Cancer Awareness month. Ribbons are about to flow. People will have 10,000 chances to donate. Big companies are going to get their opportunity to give back…and then there was NURSERY RHYMES blog.
Anyone who’s followed this blog for the last two years knows that this is something taken to the next level. There have been artists who’ve asked me, in anger, why I can’t post their work until November. Others want to know why I’m not doing Female Spitter Month like last year. Then some just want to flat out know why! Why is Mother Hiphop going so hard for breast cancer? Did she have it? Does she have it? Did someone she know die from it? TELL US! So I will. I’m going to allow you all in my world which is something that NEVER happens because, well, I blog for the culture not to share my life. But when it comes to something like this you all deserve a chance to be in my personal world and see what exactly about this cause has set me on fire.
(deep breath)
My grandfather fought cancer when I was 11 years old and survived. Then, when I was entering high school he was diagnosed again with a different type of cancer. My freshman year of high school, the year you transition, the year you begin to like boys for real and assume you know anything about love, my grandpa passed away. It completely rocked my world. To this day I think about when I visited him in a cancer treatment place. I still get teary eyed reminiscing on how he didn’t look like himself (he had lost so much weight from being nauseous because of the chemo and dark as well). Then, there are the moments I remember his baritone voice singing a hymn or him tending the grass early in the morning. I recall the life lessons he spent hours telling me as if he knew he wasn’t going to be here to walk me through it all. I think about seeing him befriend whoever wherever and tell them about a savior who loved them so naturally. A man who read tons of books, left just as many notes, and valued blackness as well as education equally.To watch a man who survived the Great Depression, Civil Rights Movement, and enter the new Millenia pass away shattered me. Angered me. Almost destroyed me. I told him I would make him proud. I haven’t stopped being ambitious since.
This year alone I’ve lost two people from cancer.
While away at missionary school in February we went on a canoe/camping trip to celebrate surviving the first five weeks of being in complete isolation and living like a 3rd world country. The day I came and finally got my phone back one of the first pieces of news I received was that my friend JT had died while I was gone. See, we had a scare when it was rumored she passed away in December. It was now March. I prayed and hoped it wasn’t true just to discover from a mutual friend it really was. I was so torn up I wept spontaneously for two weeks. She was 25. What so many people never knew was that JT had been my lowkey cheerleader since high school. She always told me how dope I was for being a risk taker and even when I was afraid she confirmed I was okay. I had spoken to her before I even left for school and once more there she was saying how she always liked how I was willing to do things that stood up for my beliefs. I think about her still.
My grandpa had a handful of boys and twin girls. I was only blessed enough to get to know one uncle, Uncle Kenny. My mom got disconnected from him after grandpa’s funeral. They found each other. It was so joyous and awesome until we discovered that he had cancer…stage four. Here we were again but in a worse position. I wasn’t raised with or around him. My time was short it seemed. I took some of my finals early and we rushed down to Georgia to see him and find out what was going on. In his face was that of my grandfather’s. He had the best laugh. Most importantly he saw me for who I was and wasn’t afraid to call me out on the good or ugly. Fast forward, he comes during spring break. I visit him at his hotel room and there he was. I felt as if I was seeing my grandfather all over again. He laid there in the bed with a breathing machine and so little from not eating. I bucked up. We talked and watched a movie. I saw him again before he left and when I got back to school I called him to report how my garden was growing. We swapped farm stories. Life was good…until two weeks after both my graduations I find out that he passed away. Our last conversation was about my collard greens’ beauty, coming to see him in Alabama, and how proud he was of me being educated. I made promises, I’m keeping them.
NOW…here I am. My cousin who I view as my brother is fighting cancer. For some reason cancer likes to be in my territory. But after losing heavily this year I’ve already let it know that he’s not one open for claiming. So you’ve noticed I didn’t have anyone pass away from breast cancer. That’s true. So why am I supporting the cause right? I have a passion for women. I have a passion to see them empowered. For this reason I smashed my divided heart together and THIS is the reason for me going so hard. I want to give the most unimportant thing (money) to help women get healthy enough to finish raising their children. I want to help fund education on something that shreds families every day. THIS IS WHY. As the month goes on you’ll see pictures of women in the hiphop industry who are just as passionate. You’ll read what they have to say and you have the chance to donate until October 19th. I ask and urge you to. A woman is depending on it.
Nursery Rhymes 