I achieved 1000+ followers!

Wow! What does one say? 

Dancing Dave Minion, Minion Tim

Love, Hands, Signing, Heart Hands, Heart

I am overwhelmingly ecstatic! this has been the moment I have been dreaming off. The milestone that that I have been aiming for, because this is the amount of people not including my subscribers who have been nothing but supportive, inspired and motivated, became my friends, my wordpress family. I have built some hefty bonds with some of you, had chats with many of you, have gotten to know the majority of you and have been supporting your blog and progress as well. Nothing says more to me, than to know that my blog has reached over 1000 people from different places and have challenged people to stay fit and healthy, get moving and be productive, make sure you are aware of the stigmas that follow certain mental health disorders, make sure we come together in unity so we can hopefully lessen the bodyshaming, and lessen the bullying and somehow build each other up because we need to, we need to find what brings us together and use it to better the world each day. I am so proud of all of you and so very thankful for all of you, because as you already know, I wouldn’t have made these achievements without your support, your engagement, your time, all of you have been an asset to my accomplishments and a HUGE factor for why I want to continue to write good content, publish good videos, challenge myself to new heights so that I am doing my part in making sure you get inspired, motivated and feel like you can come to me or come to my page and have some sort of fulfillment. I don’t want to let any of you down and I hope my blog continues to grow and continues to help those that want it and build the confidence of those who need someone in their corner. Thank you so much for being my #1 fan!

Your Fitness Blogger,

Shay-lon xxooxo

My next milestone: 1500 followers, I want to start a chain reaction and bring more people together! 

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(MLK Day) – I grew up dealing with racism, but I never stopped loving others because of it.

Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day 🙂

 

It is apparent that Dr. Martin Luther King had a dream, one that he had hoped would happen with combating negativity with peace and love and not anger. Many of us were not born during the civil rights movement to know the kind of pain, the kind of “fight” black people  had to put up, in order to find that equality, in order to call every nationality our brothers, our sisters. Many of us now are still fighting that fight in order to be accepted among other cultures and nationalities. People say they don’t judge, people say they only know of love, people say they don’t see color, but people show so much different sometimes. This blog post will discuss my fight, my obstacles, and how I managed to become the strong, independent, black woman I am today in a world full of so much hate, full of so much hurt, full of so much loss, full of so much tears and so much death. 

 

For starters, I grew up in an all white community (Findlay, Ohio) but was born in Cincinnati Ohio. , being the only black female on my sports teams, my choir, my neighborhood, my school many times, and among my group of friends growing up. To me, it was normal, because I didn’t know anything else. I didn’t know what diversity really was because I was used to being in this small box, used to being the standout, used to being the dark face in a picture. I brought up and raised on love, acceptance and to be people’s friend because who they are and not because of how much money they had, what they looked like or because they chose to be different. My mom never taught hate, she never told me to be mean because they didn’t “look like me”,  she wanted me to be polite to my elders and give respect to my teachers and make friends with people who bring positivity to my life and gave me a solid foundation to stand on my own when things got tough. The hardest thing for me was to stand on my own when things got tough & things did get tough for me, they sure did but don’t pity me, for what I am about to tell you is only to enlighten you on my life and give you my eyes for a day, my thoughts for a day and fears for a day.  For none of this is worse than anyone else’s obstacles. 

 

I believe my first bout with racism was when I was in 5th grade at Lincoln Elementary school in Findlay, Ohio. I was on the playground at recess, probably playing kickball or something and a school mate decided to call me “Nigger”, she was so sure of herself that she called me “nigger” more than once. I didn’t know what to do or say, I was not a confrontational child and I didn’t understand why someone would call me “nigger” when my mom always taught my brother and I to never say that word. In 5th grade you have an idea of what racism is, but because I was the only black kid in the school, I guess I thought it wouldn’t be such an issue since most of these kids I had knew since diapers. That same day, I cried. I felt defeated because while she was laughing at me and my weakness, I decided to do “the right thing” which was tell the principal, and my mom came to the school and in her mind I probably should have punched the chick in her face for being so damn ignorant but I didn’t. The principal dealt with it “accordingly” I suppose, she might have gotten suspended (I still remember her name, but will not mention for her sake). That same day I had to walk home and as I was walking home, her family and herself were in a vehicle and pulled up in front of me, to threaten me. Again, scared. I just allowed them to say whatever they had to say and waited for them to drive away before continuing home. This was my 1st bout with racism.

 

My second bout with racism was in 5th grade, but it was a little odd, some guy in my classes thought it would be funny to make jokes about black people and would say “nigger” repeatedly, not outloud for the teacher to hear but more like under his breath and in whispers.. and he would just say some really stupid things, that would make hardly any sense but for some reason he got off on that.. and I still til this day do not understand why – I don’t believe I ever told my mom about this incident nor a teacher but I wanted to many times because after awhile it just got unnerving and he was fucking annoying. I don’t think he was calling me a “nigger”, well I believe he did once but I ignored it, because after awhile you just get used to it, when someone makes it their mission to call you names that offend you because of your skin color. It hardly makes any fucking sense why his ass did this but he made it so it was an ongoing teasing game and I just ignored it all the time. Sometimes I wish I would have had the balls to punch him in the throat, I can only hope he has grown up since then.. or someone kicked his ass finally. 

 

3rd bout with racism – 6th grade (middle school), I had a HUGE crush on this guy at school, for a while he didn’t know but man did I go “goo goo gaga” over him – he was like my ultimate crush, I swear I was all about him! haha. We weren’t friends but he was friends with some of my friends at the time, well one of my friends made it their mission to tell him that I had a crush on him because she knew him very well, and I didn’t really want her to tell him but at the same time I was like.. eh.. why not. I thought the most that would happen would be he reject me by saying he had no interest and then I would have to move on. WELL.. he rejected me alright but in one of the worse ways possible in order to make a point – which pissed me off and hurt me really bad. He said something about me being a dirty fence (referencing my color) and I was ugly and how he thought I was poop on a fence or something of that nature. I mean .. I guess when you have to choose between being called nigger, or being referenced as dirt on a fence or worse poop on a fence, you really don’t know which is worse; especially in a school where no one understood the hurt like I did, the way I did. He said it at the damn lunch table for everyone to hear too, which made me feel that much more beaten down. Some laughed and of course he laughed too, but I didn’t laugh. I didn’t find it funny at all. That made my self esteem really low. 

 

My fourth bout with racism- Was in 7th grade, I played basketball and was on the basketball team, well I was the ONLY black girl on our basketball team. Which again didn’t bother me too much but I didn’t know very many people at this school, so it was different for me. In 6th grade I played basketball but my team didn’t give me shit about my race nor did the coach either. I actually was friends with some of the people on the team at the time and it made me more comfortable. Well 7th grade, I was kind of put on the spot multiple times. When a teacher is asking you what it is like to be in slavery and you don’t know the answer (and she replies with, how do you not know) .. or when the coach decides to not play you for the majority of the games even though you are good, or when someone references their tan comparing to your skin tone and making sly comments at you about “how they don’t wish to be that dark” and someone else telling them that they look black and they reply with “ew, no” .. 

 

5th bout with racism- 8th grade, I had a coach’s assistant (classmate) throw salt in my hair in a bus so she could get a laugh at how the salt looked like bugs in “black people’s hair” – I don’t know.. I did nothing about it, again being a little bitch and wanting to fit in, I just let shit happen. My mom was pissed to say the least. I mean extremely pissed off. That probably made her blood pressure rise pissed off. 

 

9th grade, being called a “black white girl” like sure this seems like it is okay, right? you would assume it is is okay, that people make this into a compliment. In their eyes, I was black in color but acted like a white girl (whatever this is supposed to mean) the ignorance was unreal.. and I not knowing any better or understanding just allowed people to make this reference, because they liked that I wasn’t the stereotypical black chick.. they liked that I was prim and proper and didn’t dress like I came from Compton, they adored that I had long hair and wore american eagle, they loved that my words made sense and all because of my color, I couldn’t be just Shay-lon, I had to be the “black white girl”. 

 

10th and 11th grade. Mostly 10th though. By this time I had moved to Texas and attended a new school. It definitely was black people prominent but this didn’t make a difference because somehow I was still different in their eyes. The ignorance at this school was huge when it came to being a different kind of black .. god because I wasn’t raised in the hood and didn’t wear certain clothing or talk a certain way or walk a certain way or fuck all the black men in the school or because I didn’t have a HUGE ass or because my hair wasn’t fake and didn’t text like a gangsta or because I wasn’t a gang member or because I was wearing american eagle instead of baby phat jeans.. I mean seriously.. the ignorance was outrageous!!!! Black girls treated me like shit and for what reason? because I was different!!! my own fucking race.. had to talk down to me, make me feel inferior and make me feel unwanted in order to make a point about where I was from and who I was. The only love I got was when I was playing basketball, it was my outlet. Black guys were no better,, calling each other “nigga and negro” and me wondering why anyone would say that to another human being.  I didn’t belong anywhere anymore. 

 

12 grade I moved to Colorado and didn’t deal with very little to no racism and little to none ignorance. It was diverse and people were accepting of me at the school. I felt like I didn’t have to live in the unknown and didn’t have to question my level of worth because of who I was and what I looked like.  It was a nice change.

 

When I moved back to Findlay, Ohio 4.5-5 years later. I transferred jobs and was the only black person working at the store after one black man was fired. I think for the most part I was treated decently, I don’t think people gave me too much of a hard time in that store when it came to race – at least not to my knowledge. When I got a second job in town, I had another bout with racism when a customer called me a “nigger”, and I was much older and much wiser, I gave this dude a piece of my mind and afterwards told my boss and started crying and was super pissed off. For the first time in my life, I stood up for myself – I was happy I did, because I was sick of being called something out of my name, sick of people thinking it is okay to do so and sick of letting it happen and not doing shit about it. 

 

Since this time, my bouts have been slim to none. Doesn’t mean it won’t happen again, doesn’t mean my life was horrible, just means it took me a long time to finally accept me for me and it took me longer to stand up for myself. I have allowed things to happen because I was raised to love and raised to be respectful and raised to only fight when necessary and to be strong and be brave but many times over, I wasn’t brave and I wasn’t strong and I allowed people to make my race an issue, make my lifestyle an issue, make my clothes an issue, make me an issue. When the REAL issue was those people didn’t like me for me because they didn’t have the same kind of love in their hearts for others different than themselves. This was hard for me to write because it was long and it hit on things that angered me growing up. I know black people aren’t the only ones being bullied or called racist names, I know other cultures and nationalities get shitted on, but I am black and this is my story, 

 

Martin Luther King Jr didn’t have a dream that we would abuse the word “nigga” and make it a thing for ONLY certain people to use but get mad when others start chiming in, he didn’t have a dream that our own race would turn their backs on one another because of how they looked or where they came from. His dream wasn’t to put down others who were different from ourselves, he didn’t have a dream that we would be in turmoil, he didn’t have a dream in hopes that racism, slavery, and hate would come full circle again. His dream aimed to unite people from different backgrounds, his dream was to get away from anger and hate and stem from love and peace, his dream was for people to see color but to not make light of it, his dream was for us to be BETTER people, to spread kindness, joy, love, equality, and give people a home no matter what race they were, feed them no what race they were, educate them no matter what race they are, and teach them about his dream and to practice what we preach. It’s too bad he isn’t alive now, because he would be proud to know that the world has gotten better since his death, but he would cry at the pain some still endure. 

 

“I have decided to stick with love, hate is too great of a burden to bear” – Martin Luther King Jr. 

 

Shay-lon 

 

Chances are you aren’t really living ..

Every once in a GREAT while, I get in one of these inspirational moods and bore you with my positive outlook and story… thoughts.. fears.. momentary comedy.. and toward the end everything ends with .. bullshit I could have said in the beginning but decided to make you read til the end to find out the point. This is another one of those post. 😀

 

You see, we run into this thing called chance, the possibility of something happening but we never know what. We are always taking chances, at least most of us are, and when our chances run out, well.. that normally means we have met our maker or we have run into a dead end, and it is time to re-evaluate how we spend what time we have left. How do you spend today, if you don’t know what tomorrow will be like? Odds are you will continue to.. what is that word? Live?

People use the word “live” a lot, it almost sounds like a catchy answer until I become a nuisance and ask you “how do you really know you are living, spending everyday alive, when you aren’t taking chances, and you are afraid to make mistakes”? then you get that grumpy answer: “Well I am still breathing, aren’t I?” – nothing seems to make sense anymore.. when people say that. 

Many of you are probably wondering what this has to do with “Fitness/health”, but if you pay attention, this whole thing will add up to another post in the future & in all honesty this whole post has to do with life – and fitness & health is a lifestyle, right? so calm down and don’t worry about me getting off the beaten path.. 

 

This whole year of 2016, I took some pretty huge chances, I made some really fucked up mistakes and I probably lived more than I have in many years. Actually.. I haven’t lived enough and I want more of out life – but that is because I constantly await for something to happen in my life, I patiently wait to make another mistake, to fuck up, to laugh louder and harder, to cry more, to smile often, and store what is left of the memories in my phone, laptop or brain.  I suggest all of you wait too, no use in running after something that will greet you at the door in due time. I am not really good with words, so excuse me if this starts to sound like gibberish, I don’t mean to make you fall asleep, I just don’t use really big words when I speak to keep people’s attention – I much prefer to speak like a child (repeating what I say often using different sentences but the same small words) luckily for all of you, I am a “big kid”, so no need for a babysitter. 

 

It’s shame we have all been trying to fit in all this time, trying to create this white picket fence where we greet our neighbors every morning, say hi to Lucy and Tom next door, and go to work to come home and do it all over again. We stopped taking chances, sometime ago, when we realized that Lucy and Tom were shot walking down the street to get coffee, our dog was hit by a train and our children lost their first sports event of the year & we got laid off from our million dollar job! Oh.. we were living.. day in and day out, doing the same shit, greeting the same neighbors, attending the same games, and working the same hours, laughing at the same black and white TV shows. I remember when people were “living”, living in bliss and living in fortune. Some might agree that back then compared to now has significantly changed (and I don’t mean the weather) – I mean everybody who is somebody can’t even stand to walk anymore without fear. We don’t take the same chances anymore. I hear people say “nothing is going to stop me from living” but they are the same ones driving to the corner store up one block and complaining about how they wished they could save on gas, but don’t dare walk in fear they could be mugged.. – so what was that whole nothing can stop me from living again? lol. 

 

We stopped living when things happened next door to us, when people we know lost their lives, when we decided that it was much safer in our homes, when we watched the news and wanted nothing to do with the outside world, and when pain and sorrow came knocking at our doors – we gave up our lives, we surrendered them to those that challenged it. We don’t attend the same kind of parties anymore, we don’t associate with the same kind of people anymore, we don’t offer sugar to our neighbors, we don’t eat candy from Halloween, we don’t drive the same way to work – call it being cautious if you want to, but being cautious is what kept people from living (for better or for worse, that is up to you)

It isn’t only you that isn’t living, hell I am not living, I am being more and more stuck in this zone of “safety” where it scares me to almost say my name to strangers, not knowing their intentions. Making new friends and dating never seemed anymore scary than these days – online and offline. Truth is, we don’t take the same chances we once have, and it doesn’t mean we failed, or that we are scared shitless, just means we developed a sense of wanting to stay alive, wanting to protect, wanting to be more aware of what could happen. 

 

I personally believe that “living” is what you make it, but what if you don’t live long enough to make something of life? What if your tragic end comes in the next couple of hours? Does it mean you didn’t live life, or does it mean you lived it until you had nothing to live for? 

 

Something tells me you are going to think I am crazy for creating this post, I hope it wasn’t too deep for any of you. I hope it didn’t scare any of you, I hope I get some good feedback , and all of you decide to share your thoughts, I hope you share my post with your audience and get them talking about it, I hope I have inspired you to take chances.. more often.. and I hope I opened your mind to life.. to what we know but do not always notice. 

 

This is how I will end this post: “if by taking chances means we die quicker, then I guess that means we need to make haste, because who wants to die a slow death” – Shay-lon Moss

 

Thank you for reading. 

 

Shay-lon Moss xxxx