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To begin again is the dream of anyone. To do it all over again, this time with dreams gained, insights learnt, stories told, hearts bruised, yet glory revealed, is the dream of anyone. The dream of a woman, black like me. These days there is a moon falling from my sides and mouth and I know my magic.

Where there is a woman, there is magic. If there is a moon, she is a woman who knows her magic. Image by Kenzi Studio ( I can’t wait for your magic) and words by Ntozake Shange.

This year marks my tenth year in academia. It’s also my most magical and ambitious year thanks to divine teaching of Ntozake Shange. I came prepared to move mountains. I came ready to do it my way, no matter the obstacles along the way. I gathered up my sleeves and with the help of so many, paved a path many dare not follow. I choose motherhood for example over and over again. I wrote grants to learn their beauty and their pain over and over again. The past 10 years meant that I didn’t stop working. If I left academia as a graduate student with 6 papers or so. In 10 years we have over 100 papers. If I left academia as a graduate student with one federally funded pre-doctoral award, in 10 years I have completed or currently working on 12 federally funded grants. If I left graduate school with the biggest loss, the death of my father, in 10 years I have added the death of my beloved uncles, aunties, sister-in-law, mentors, and nephew to the list. I also became a full professor in less than 10years.

I share all this to say the past 10 years have exceeded my expectations. Bear in mind too all of this came at a cost. The joy and perils of academic spaces for one. The lack of support another. That there is no air and these spaces stifle growth is true, especially for women black like me. But there is also joy, the sweet happy kind that occurs when you meet and collaborate with colleagues that allow you to dream. I have found my circle of safety in them. That and the people, staff included who allowed light in my life, those that saw more in me than I ever knew existed, those that stayed up all night, those that cried, those that laughed. All of them that helped me tell a story worth telling, are one way or another, gifts worth treasuring over and over again.

But it’s time for change. I know my magic too. I look forward to the next 10 years with the excitement of a woman currently in labor. What I am about to give birth to can only be described as God. He started this journey and I look forward to all the ways he completes it, knowing that his word is all I need. His plans are all I know. Welcome to my most magical and ambitious years, where dreaming and claiming space is finally allowed, on my own terms.

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Roots understand everything.

Out of sight,

Yet they see it all

and never judge

A beauty,

An importance,

None goes unnoticed.

For roots

hidden underground,

Just drinking water

When they can

Coordinating behavior

As they can

If you could know

all the ways they connect,

If you could learn,

the commitments they know,

The cooperation too,

You wouldn’t apologize for your thorns either

Not when this thing, hidden but so vital.

Anchors those above

Branched network

Cues and pattern formation

Moments of peak

In fixed positions.

These roots

Anchors all that witness too.

Art by Mikenzi Jones. This image personifies my dreams with grant writing these days.

This poem was inspired by one written by Lucille Clifton, my forever muse. I have always loved an effective approach section of a grant. Granted it’s my weakness and my most painful section to write. A thorn personifies this section well. Still, I know I must move past the pain to put forth a blueprint that tells the foundation of what I propose to do. Today I gave my first attempt at describing the approach section of a grant as roots, the foundation of everything. I used the Igbo cosmology of Ani (ground) because, Aniwe ( the earth owns) Aninye ( my maternal grandfather’s name, the earth gives) and Anikamadu ( the earth is bigger than people). When you think of your approach section like the ground, the earth, the roots, all that remains hidden about your grant becomes sterling in your eyes. Roots know what holds you, they see and witness all that centers you as you delve deeply into ways to make this work excel. I am at my zenith with this thing called grant writing because I know my roots.