When Kanye Prayed

A number of similarities exist between my family and the Kardashian family that at times has made it seem like my own is some parallel universe version of America’s most notorious reality TV family. My mother, Karla with a K, gave her three daughters K names and our brother a different letter. My father, though not defensive of one OJ Simpson, did have an untimely death ala Robert Kardashian, Sr. And as a matter of fact, my oldest sister shared a wedding date with Kim herself, though Kari’s marriage has lasted well beyond the 72 days Kim stayed with Kris Humphries.

Thankfully there are not too many other coincidences, and while it would be nice to have their millions in the bank, I’m grateful for my humble upbringing and the shaping it did for me. But a few years back when things for that family were a little different than present-day, Kanye West penned a song for his and Kim’s first daughter, North.

As I lay me down to sleep / I hear her speak to me

Hello ‘mari / How ya doin? 

I think the storm ran out of rain / The clouds are moving

Written from the perspective of his beloved mother who had passed, Kanye imagines what she would have said to him and the legacy she would have wanted him to pass on to his daughter.

I talked to God about you / He said He sent you an angel

Look at all that He gave you / You asked for one and you got two

You know I never left you / ‘Cause every road that leads to heaven’s right beside you

It rips me apart every time. Literally just now picture me, a sobbing, blubbering mess with Kanye West rapping quietly in the background. 

I don’t want to go down the rabbit hole of psychoanalyzing Kanye, the Kardashians, or any of their harmful behavior. But it would be years later that Kanye released his “gospel” album, that I found in spirituality and passion fell miles short of this one song. 

My sister had my first niece almost a year to the day after Kim had North, and though that parallel didn’t line up as perfectly (I think their pregnancies may have just overlapped), I felt this longing Kanye sings about wishing my dad was alive to meet his first grandchild. 

But that’s the beauty in that line Kanye sang, “He sent you an angel…you asked for one and you got two,” speaking to how in losing his mother and gaining his child God blessed him with some kind of a spiritual guardian as well as an earthly gift that he would need to guard as well.

While I don’t really believe in our loved ones becoming angels in the literal sense, that sentiment just encapsulates the gifts and the losses that life is all about. There is certainly no replacement for our loved ones when they leave us on earth, but there is so much more love to give and love to have when we bring new life into the world or just meet new people. The ties that bind us to those we love are never broken even if the person on the other end passes into the next life. 

It’s spring. The season of rebirth and new life and everything fresh and pretty. For me, March is the anniversary of my father’s passing, and this week I lost my grandma. 

Before I got the news I had been pondering the fact that this year would mark about half my life that I have lived without my dad. While it didn’t necessarily send me into a grief spiral thinking about him, I reflected on life and our relationships and the time we do get with those we love. It’s never enough, but there’s nothing you can do about that. You can “live each day to the fullest” and try to avoid hurting feelings and things “just in case,” but at the end of the day I think we’ll all almost always feel like we could have done more.

But reverend Kanye said 

So hear me out / hear me out

I won’t go / I won’t go

No goodbyes / No goodbyes

Just hellos / Just hellos

And when you cry / I will cry

And when you smile / I will smile

And next time / When I look in your eyes

We’ll have wings / And we’ll fly

He knows he’s gonna see his mother again. He clings fast to that faith and he knows life isn’t about trying to stay happy all the time—it’s the good and the bad. But those who love you are going to cry with you, just as they’re gonna smile with you. In the chorus he repeats a paraphrase of mother’s actual words saying “You’re not perfect but you’re not your mistakes.” 

Unfortunately by now Kanye has made so many public (and again, harmful) mistakes that it’s hard not to see him as those bad things. And again we don’t have to unpack that here, but I think it is an important lesson in humanity and empathy and forgiveness—all things that really really come in handy when we’re addressing grief and human relationships.

You can’t have the good without the bad, and we would be lost in life without its hardships. But when we hold fast to love and kindness and those who give those things to us unconditionally, it gets a lot easier.

Noise

I have this weird form of claustrophobia where it only affects my well being in super specific conditions. The fear that makes my heart race and breath irregular appears whenever either the use of my feet or my ears is compromised. The feet is just one of those comfort things I think is somewhat normal. I can’t sleep with my feet under the covers or in socks, and footie pajamas give me angina. I just like to know when the boogeyman reaches out from under the bed I’ll be able to kick back and maybe poke his eyes out with my toes.

The hearing issue is different, though. It is affected in even more specific situations, but also in the metaphoric sense. For example, I can be driving by myself and blasting music with no problem. But if I’m in a car with other people and music is blasting and someone tries to have a conversation, it feels like the walls are closing in. Or if I’m in a group and we’re trying to decide something and everyone is shouting ideas in a competition to see who can be the loudest, a part of my soul starts screaming. I just have this real sense of panic whenever there’s too much noise I can’t control.

I bet you thought this was going to be a political rant. Surprise, it’s not, and you’re welcome. I know we’re all tired of hearing about it. I am going to speak to that, though. I am excruciatingly tired of it. All I wanted was for the election to be over so we could carry on our everyday lives, but something unprecedented has happened, and everything has changed and no one really knows where to go. Or so it feels. It feels this way, at least to me, because there’s so much noise. It’s not even two-sided anymore. Everyone wants everyone to do something differently and we’re all just screaming at each other trying to be the loudest. We can’t even claim we’re the most correct because who knows what correct even looks like. I just want it all to be quiet again.

And even that, I’m told is wrong. I know it’s wrong in the sense that we should not continue to be complacent with the systematic issues like racism and sexism, but I can’t help but wish we could be complacent because at least it was the devil we knew. It’s funny because we know that with Hillary the world was not going to get better overnight. It may not have even improved much in four years. We know under Obama things got better but surely a black president did not do much for racism, and a woman president would likely do the same amount to fix sexism. But at least we knew they were trying. Trump isn’t even officially president yet and it seems someone picked up America and started shaking it like a snow globe. I want the snow to settle so we can see what’s going to happen. I know he’s the bad guy. I loathe that man, but it’s so loud in this country right now that I don’t even know what’s going to happen.

 

The Mean Reds

In his masterpiece, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Truman Capote wrote, “You know the days when you get the mean reds?…The blues are because you’re getting fat, and maybe it’s been raining too long. You’re just sad, that’s all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you’re afraid, and you don’t know what you’re afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?” I have that feeling.

It’s 12:30 on a Sunday night and I was thinking about that book, that quote, and the Holly Golightly character. She is admired as the essence of class in her little black dress, but anyone who’s actually seen the movie or read the book knows she’d be institutionalized if she was a real person in the 60’s. She’s nuts.

I hate this character trope. She’s the manic pixie dream girl we all hate to love, but what happens when we become her? You think things aren’t going your way because you’re just too flighty and too tied down to the mundane musings of everyday life. You get the mean reds.

I’m suffocating. I love everything that I’m doing. I love my classes, my school, my activities, but when I let everything settle and I look at what’s in front of me, I get short of breath and wonder if I’m doing anything at all. My stomach is in knots thinking about the future but doesn’t untangle if I think about the right now.

It sucks because I know that I’m not depressed. I feel blessed that I don’t have the type of chemical imbalances that make people feel this way all the time, but what do I do when I feel this way? When I’m not “bad” enough to be medicated, but I’m not “good” enough to not feel like this today? I want to slap Holly Golightly because she’s being ridiculous and making everyone else miserable, but then I realize I’m doing the same thing. I’m watching myself do it, but I can’t slap myself and tell me to stop.

But I’ll get over it. It’s just the mean reds.

xoxo,

Kam