Pole to Pulitzer

“I'm writing this from one of the La Quinta Inns in New Orleans. My thighs have pole bruises from today's audition.”

I was supposed to do this entry months ago, and that was the opener. December was a weird time. I abruptly quit Walmart after a month of research and decided that if I’m going to be this young, this toned, and this beautiful I’m going to take advantage and start dancing.

It had some ups and downs, but once I finally found a club worth working at, I slowly began digging myself out of the financial hole that had ensued from us struggling for a few months trying to get accustomed to living on our own and together.

I’ve never had money. My dad used to buy my shoes about a couple sizes too big so that I could wear them for years on end. My mom scrounged every penny to send me to arts school to grow up and be some great writer.

I have grown up, and I’m a great writer because I’m an honest one. COVID-19 has been a blessing and a curse. Ms. Rona gave me a break from niggas squeezing my thighs and has given me ample creative opportunity. I’ve been painting and flowing and detangling my hair without being on a time crunch.

I’ve rekindled friendships I presumed dead, I’ve revamped my blog AGAIN, and in the face of this crisis, I’ve decided to be consistent with my blog once more. My publications in journals matter to me a lot, but there’s no reason I can’t do both. My professional writing does not have to suffocate my personal writing, and I will no longer let one take precedence over the other.

I used to think perhaps I have some self-inflated ego because I believe in my capabilities. That isn’t true. It’s the only way to survive. Dancing taught me that. When I was younger and friendless (Okay, okay not friendless but my friends were phony and I never saw them outside of school. Same thing), I submerged myself in music. I used to choreograph shit in my head for hours on end. I’m not a Black Swan. I’m Mercedes: the rose that grew from concrete. The 5” woman that becomes 5’5 with those platforms on. Spinning on that pole is invigorating even if it is temporary.

I’d be lying if I said I don’t miss work. Telling a tall tale. I love my work and before touching became illegal, my work loved me back.

Now, though, it’s on pause. Pausing one thing isn’t that bad when you’re resuming another. Yes, I’m broke, but I’m broke due to a GLOBAL crisis; I wouldn’t dare take that personally.  In this time, I’ve also made note of who’s truly there for me and who I’m truly there for. All this shall pass. By the end of it, maybe my essay collection will be complete. (Hint, hint, hint)

Also, I forgot to mention I’ve finally reached a place of inner peace. I did that prior to COVID getting out of hand, but now its capacity is stretching. I can do whatever I want. I *do* whatever I want. So welcome to Biggity Babe’s Blog. Welcome to my awakening.