Sincerely,

Linda Orji

In my most recent Instagram post from June 2, 2018 (Me dancing to Won’t he do it by Koryn Hawthorne)  I stated,

“Look out for a NEW blog post in a few HRS. Ya girl got a lot on the brain for sure.”

Why didn’t I post anything? Well, because I was receiving a lot of judgment from the videos and my mind instantly went to a NEXT LEVEL state, as it does often. I immediately put a hold on the original blog post I was going to put up to meditate on how I can respond to the judgment in my best way possible? I shared a Facebook story:

“I’M DANCING TO CHRISTIAN MUSIC AND THEY’RE STILL PREYING ON ME.”

That was one way, but it wasn’t my best way, so I deleted the story and am writing this instead.

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So, according to the ones judging, the way I was moving in my videos was too secular for the song. The question was, how was I listening to a song about God and moving my hips the way I was moving them?

My answer is…I’m so over the pathetic, don’t got nothing better to do than complain, holy sanctified, kumbaya, smile in your face talk behind your back, jealous, Christians. Better yet I’m gonna take away that title Christian and just say ‘individuals’ because the label Christian doesn’t define you, you define you. Just like I DEFINE me.

I was given beautifully designed tools; body, mind, and soul, all of which have powers that can move mountains.  You see, there’s an art to moving and it is so much more than dancing and music. It’s psychological, it has a universal affect (philosophy), but most importantly it’s a safe haven for people like myself who are deeply and highly intuitive to their surroundings.

The type of music my body, mind, and soul move to is irrelevant here, because I DEFINE what it means when they move. I DEFINE what defines music. The wind could be music. Silence could be music. When I recorded myself I wasn’t concerned about anything other than using my tools to inspire others to get up and move (physically, mentally, and spiritually) in the midst of troubled times. To work-it-out within yourself and the God-in-you, even if means being alone in your living room, hurt, confused, misunderstood, and breaking a sweat to a dope song. I wasn’t twerking. I wasn’t naked. I didn’t show any cleavage. Because I decided to sway my hips a certain way doesn’t mean I’m “fast” or trying to be seductive. The fact that this is the mindset out here is a reflection of how much progress needs to be made among US.

I’ve recently encountered people who are scared to be honest with themselves because they are so frightened of how “loved ones” might react. Is that love? Loved ones lying to each other to instill fear in another so the individual won’t become their best and strongest self but forever be “loyal” to them. Is that loyalty? There are people out here manipulating others so much that it stunts their physical, spiritual, and mental growth. It breaks the individual down to a point where they lose themselves and are unable to define themselves. People are out here pleading for help maliciously and selfishly. That’s one scary combination, isn’t it?

Dear judgers. I DEFINE me. My third eye is open so there is no need for me to see, for I AM one with my surroundings, mentally, spiritually, and physically.

Sincerely,

Linda Orji

The post I DEFINE. appeared first on Linda Orji Creative Universe.

The title Bronx SHēk (pronunciation of ‘chic’ not to be confused with ‘chick’) was inspired by a moment that occurred just a couple months ago, when a guy questioned my “Bronx Chickness.” I guess he was accentuating I was fake; because of how I was raised and how I moved, and made decisions. In other words, I was born in the Bronx but my mannerisms didn’t fit the role.

He said to me, “I need me a REAL Bronx chick” At the time I was so distracted by not fitting into his standards of a “real chick” that I didn’t even realize how stereotypical his standards were.

Granted, there are some things I’m still learning as a woman. But how does me being a real woman have anything to do with where I was born and raised? So because my father moved me out of the Bronx and raised me elsewhere I don’t fit the role of a real Bronx chick? What does that even mean?

Fast forward, weeks later, I was brainstorming for my second Creative LLC’s Paint & Play spoken word piece at Apostrophe Lounge, and for some reason, that moment came back to me. Everything I didn’t say to him overflowed and the contractions of birthing Bronx SHēk began. It created an indescribable roller coaster of sad, angry, positive, kiss-my-ass emotions.

https://youtu.be/FcHJ96XV2gk

Ladies!

Let’s do those out there, who are dividing us by putting us into stereotypical categories to fulfill their insecurities a good service. Let’s come together and make this world better for the future, our children. Let’s show them that we are more than our hood (where we were born) and some. Yes, we may rock name brands, but they do not define us.

Let’s not get so distracted by money and possessions that we become blind to what’s happening around us. Let’s start embracing our own swag and stop trying to copy the swag of another for the sake of “fitting in.”

Let’s put all that we have learned into a pot and brew something uniquely strong, elegant, and  beautiful. I’m here to tell you, you are NOT just a chick from Baltimore. You are NOT just a chick from Bokoro or San Juan. You are NOT just a chick from the Bronx.

You are Baltimore SHēk.

You are Bokoro SHēk.

You are San Juan SHēk.

You are Bronx SHēk.

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chic

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