Living Revolutionary, Nothing Less than Legendary: Martin and Coretta

Martin and Coretta

Martin and Coretta

Imagine sitting on the living room floor playing with your daughter and a brick flies through the window. No one is hurt but you hear someone scream, “Nigger go home!” There’s glass everywhere, your heart is racing, your child won’t stop shaking and crying. All you can do is grab her and run to the bedroom to lock the door. Not knowing who’s outside or if they’re coming back. This was the life of Coretta Scott King.

Sitting in a meeting, stressing because the non-violent approach isn’t working. Tired, hungry, missing your wife and young child; someone runs into the church! “Martin! Martin!” They scream, out of breath, fear in their eyes. “Someone shot at your house!” The first thought racing through your mind, “Is my family okay?” The second thought, “I want revenge but revenge goes against the movement. Revenge means that they won.” Going home to find your family hurting, afraid, crying because they’re safe but hating you were working instead of there to protect them. This was the life of Marin Luther King.

Coretta packed up and went to Atlanta, Birmingham wasn’t safe anymore in her eyes. She loved Martin, she loved the movement but she just needed time. Needed to breathe. Driving all night, worried State Troopers might recognize him and pull him over. Worried about sit-ins and beatings he drove. “I’m here for my family, I can’t do this by myself Coretta. I need you.” Holding her hand, embracing her, his heart racing, his heart calming. She sang to him when they were alone, her voice the calm before the storm that was the South.

You can the full story on www.stylemagazine.com

Coretta Scott King: More than the Wife of a King

Coretta Scott King in college.

Coretta Scott King in college.

“If a man had nothing that was worth dying for, then he was not fit to live.”
~ Coretta Scott King

There are some women that just make a lasting impression. It doesn’t matter when you meet them or for how long, once you do, you’re just impressed. I’m sitting at my computer researching an article I’m writing about the early years of Dr. King and Coretta Scott King’s relationship and something strange happened. I realized that I was falling in love with Coretta Scott King, Dr. King has been gone for a while and so has she but I almost felt as though I was doing something wrong.

I just couldn’t help it though, the more I read about her, the more I became fascinated by not just her strength after he was assassinated but with the woman she was before she became his wife. I could go into full writer mode and break it down but we live in a 15 minutes of less society so I’ll make it simple.

I’ll tell you all why she may be my favorite woman of all time!

One- When she was ten she picked cotton with her siblings so that her family could have extra money. Her father was the first black man in their town to own his own pickup truck and he built a lumber mill. When he refused to sell it they white men in the town burned it down. She knew struggle, sacrifice and hard work from an early age.

Two- Her sister was the first African American girl to go to an all white college. She took it one step further and tried to be the first woman to become a teacher in that district but they wouldn’t let her. So she left and took a scholarship at a college in Boston. She was willing to fight but knew that some battles just couldn’t be won.

Three- She’s a sorority girl. A member of Alpha Kappa Alpha to be exact. Who doesn’t love a sorority girl?

Four- She gave up her singing career to be the wife of a Baptist Preacher in Alabama. She wasn’t singing in lounges and clubs she was a degreed, talented opera singer. For her love and being with a man that could make a difference mattered more than her career.

Five- She’s gorgeous and all we have is black and white pictures. Could you imagine what she would look like in color and if she had Instagram filters? Beautiful, brave, hard working, smart and can sing? She’d be huge!

Six- The first time she met Dr. King’s father he told her that he didn’t think a singing career was cool for a minister’s wife. She told him, “Who told you I was taking your son seriously?” She then told Martin that she couldn’t talk to a man that couldn’t stand up to his father. She also asked that the word “obey” be removed from her vows. This was in the 1950’s where women rarely spoke up like that. That’s confidence and heart.

Seven- After his death she hesitated in taking a leadership role in the Civil Rights Movement but eventually she did and she kept his legacy and the legacy they created together going.

Eight- She was cool with JFK, everyone wants to be cool with JFK.

Nine- MLK Day, the King Center in Atlanta, all of these are monuments to her husband that she built. She was the one that pushed through legislation to get her husband a Holiday because of all he’d done. She was the one that fought Boston University to get his papers even though she lost.

Ten- She never remarried after Dr. King, never dated or gave her time to any other men. For as long as she lived she kept her vows even though he was gone. That’s loyalty, that’s incredibly cool.

Past the Infatuation Stage

better“I love you.”

He said again, this time louder, maybe he thought I didn’t hear him the first time. If I looked up from my phone my eyes would betray me but he didn’t give me a choice snatching the phone out of my hand and throwing it on the couch.

“I said I love you.” The closer he stepped to me the further back I moved. What we had wasn’t supposed to be love. Love is messy and jealous and insecure and mean. I had love before, I cried because of love, fought because of love. I needed a break from love.

“You don’t love me Scott, you’re infatuated with me. We flirt, we text, I send you nudes and you write about me. Starbucks and iTunes and candy and material shit that’s nonbinding. What we have is fun and sexy and we don’t have to think about it, we just do it. Why bring love into that?! Love always messes shit up! Can’t we just stay in this infatuation stage?”

“Maybe we could stay in this stage if you weren’t so damn perfect! You call me even when I don’t call you just because you know I’ll answer the phone. You accept my randomness and I accept your quirks. You don’t think I notice how you pull away when the conversations turn serious or bite your lip when to fight screaming when it feels to good. I know you’re holding back but what choice do I have? Keep pretending I’m not falling in love with you… I can’t do that anymore.”

There was no hesitation in his voice. No doubt in his eyes. What scared me the most is that I felt the same way but if love never looked out for me before then why would the bitch look out for me now?

To Be Continued…

You’re Not Broken… God Sent Him to Heal You

They say a woman’s heart should be so deeply rooted in God that a man has to know him before he can get to her. I don’t know who ‘they’ are but I do know they have a point. Faith goes to character, faith goes to passion, faith goes to compassion. A love for God is a love for people, for life and for herself.

How can a person know what they like if they’ve never dated? How do you know you love artistic men if you’ve never been out with one? We can be miserable people. How do you know you want to be a stay at home wife if you get bored when you’re off for a week?

I’m not the guy that takes it personal when a woman has lived life. Traveled the world with different lovers, went on dates and to All Star Weekends. Go live life and find out what you want, what you need and get it out your system. When I find you I’m willing to fix whatever bruises your heart has because God doesn’t make mistakes. And him putting us in each others path is very much intentional.

I write for a living, it’s my life. So I get the power of words but I get the power of actions even more. It’s easy for a man to tell a woman, “I’m different,” but show her! Showing her is healing her. It’s making her forget about all the liars, manipulators, users and creeps that broke her down so that I can put her back together.

She’s Not You…

She didn’t have a Twitter and she rarely posted anything on FB but her best friend was the biggest attention whore ever. She let the world know her entire life and usually I ignored everything she posted but tonight was different.

“Going to Sugarhill tonight to turnup with my girl! You chicks are bragging about costume jewelry and she’s a Dr.! The youngest professor at St. Thomas University!”

Six months ago I wouldn’t have thought twice about leaving my pregnant wife to go see the woman that said no to me. Six weeks ago I was down to only thinking about her when I slept. Six days ago I kissed my fiancé and didn’t compare their lips to each other for the first time. But six hours ago she called me and her voice was echoing in my mind, every memory, every argument, every touch. The scenes playing in my head like a movie. “I’m going to Starbucks to get some coffee, get some writing done. You need anything?” She pulled me to her and kissed me, said just be safe. It was the first lie I’d ever told her. I needed to see Alexis.

It was 3am and I knew the club was closed but habits didn’t change. There was a bbq truck in 3rd Ward that her and her friends ate at faithfully. My logic was simple, if she was there we’d talk. If she wasn’t, I’d stop and get some coffee and go home to the woman that was carrying my child.

Turning the corner off of Scott you’d have thought it was 10pm instead of 3am. Cars were every where, I forgot it was homecoming weekend. I pulled into the parking lot and there she was, leaning against a car trying not to waste bbq sauce. I knew every woman with her and they were all laughing and eating.

Walking up to her, jeans and a t-shirt, thin leather jacket I didn’t say anything. Neither did she. I was afraid because looking in her eyes I knew she was feeling what I was feeling.

“You look good Lex.”

“You still have that jacket huh?” She laughed, I wiped some sauce off her chin. All her friends watching, quiet, like they were in a theatre.

I asked her could we talk for a minute. She told me to go home and talk to my wife. I stepped into her space, her friends looked like they were all ready to jump on me, they knew our history, our story. She put her hand on my chest to push me back, she told me whatever I needed to say I could say in front of her girls. I looked each of them in the eye. She threw her food at me and tried to hit me, I caught her wrist and kissed her. Why are you here?! Why couldn’t you wait on me?! Go home to your bitch! ‘She’s not you!’ I yelled. ‘She’s not you.’ I said. She grabbed my shirt, I didn’t fight her. Her friends gasped, my fiancé was watching and holding her stomach. Fuck my life…