Embracing 50

I might be two weeks shy of my 50th birthday or even beyond when you read this.I am the annoying person who counts down six weeks before their birthday to give people plenty of time to shop for presents or plan a party. This year is no exception. I’d love a gorgeous set of monogrammed luggage or money for my birthday. Despite receiving some incredible offers, I still haven’t decided where I will spend the big day.Fifty is a milestone birthday ending in a “0.” Therefore, it carries a special significance. It’s a time of retrospection, renewal, and rejoicing. For example, during the past decade, I lost most of my immediate family, endured an emergency hysterectomy, visited a few bucket list places, produced an award-winning documentary series, learned to swim, published a book, almost got married twice, made new friends worldwide, and fulfilled my dream of living abroad.My mortality tapped me on the shoulder and whispered in my ear, “Tempus Fugit.” Nevertheless, I will make every moment count. Here’s how I plan to do it:Release In May, I released a storage unit I rented for seven years.I reserved it when I moved to Mexico as my Plan B, “just in case” things didn’t work out. The world is now my home. Besides, if I could do without something for seven years, maybe I could do without it forever.In addition, I am doing mental housekeeping along the way to my 50th birthday. For example, I’m releasing people’s expectations of me. I’m also releasing the need to be “good,” including sending birthday wishes to people I don’t like on social media. As RuPaul says, “If they’re not paying your bills, don’t pay them any mind.”Create Creativity is my birthright.I come from a family of musicians, painters, and dancers. However, you’d never know it by looking at my professional resume.Here’s why: I grew up thinking that if I achieved some version of the American Dream, I’d stop white social scientists and policymakers from painting Black people as “problems.” Black people became the scapegoats for every societal “ill” in the 1980s that is now celebrated. I achieved as much of the American Dream as possible until its nightmarish reality threatened to choke me.For over a decade, I’ve worked as a freelance writer and journalist, with some other gigs thrown in to ensure the rent was paid. But my creativity was always a handmaiden to someone else’s dream -- of being elected to public office, ensuring their intellectual legacy, telling their story, or providing content. Therefore, I lost my creative voice, except for writing this monthly column and a few other projects.After years of fighting professional gatekeepers and divorcing creative partners, I realized the direct-to-consumer model is the best way to express my creative potential. Grants and equity investments are only two ways to finance my film Return of the Black Madonna. Do-it-Yourself distribution channels make it easier to write and publish the dozens of stories stalking around in my head. I no longer have to wait for someone to deem my work “good” or reject it as “bad” because I’m not a celebrity or influencer.I create what I want, and that goes for every area of my life.Embrace Now that I’m learning to release and create, it’s time to embrace.For example, I embrace that I don’t have the same energy and capacity as I did 20 years ago. I no longer hustle harder. I devote my valuable time and energy to the projects, people, and spaces that matter the most.There’s an oft-misattributed Nina Simone quote on social media that says, “You’ve got to learn to leave the table when love’s no longer being served.” I’m leaving the table quicker, rather than being asked to leave or to accept breadcrumbs. I embrace the spaces that love and appreciate me.Most importantly, I embrace my complexity and fullness. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, and I accept that. After all, I’m a temple, not a convenience store. I show up in life and with the relationships and projects that I love with devotion, reverence, and love. That’s the true gift of being 50 years old, although I’d still love the monogrammed luggage.