Recently, I escaped on a Hawaiian vacation with my boyfriend.
It was a big deal, being that it was the first trip we had taken out of state together, the first time we would spend eight straight days together after seven months of dating. Not only that, it was the first time I had been to Hawaii, or either of us had been to Kailua-Kona. It was also the first major vacation either of us had taken after a year-plus of enduring the stress of the pandemic, social isolation, and relentless racial trauma.
It was the first time in 13 months I felt I was able to step out of the constant barrage and assault on my Black (mahogany) body and have the space and the privilege to ask myself: "Where am I going? Do I like where I am headed? Is this the direction, the intention, that I want to lead my life with?"
It was the first time in a year that I was able to get far enough away from the everyday stressors of living with parents advancing in age during COVID, a hectic job, my lovable but needy family dog, and my laptop, and actually stop and take a breath. To allow myself to remember how to breathe. To remember who I was growing to be despite all of the other things.
After several days of inhaling spam masubi and poke near our AirBNB two blocks from the majestic banyan tree and perfect sands of Waikiki, I boarded a flight to the Big Island to meet up with my fella, who had gone ahead the day before. I landed at the airport, mouth agape at the volcanic rock quickly rushing up at us from the shores of the ocean. What would follow would include swimming in the surf, horseback riding on a mountain overlooking the sea, amazing fresh fish and a surplus of coconut and pineapple flavored drinks.
Yet, even more than the touristy things, the Volcanic Crater and Hawaii Volcano National Park would call to light my intention. The unhealthy ways I had been coping. The creative practice I'd allowed to let slide.
Wandering through the rain in a tropical forest and immersing in the steaming crater would provide an invitation to look at my life with honesty. This invitation was one I could either accept or reject. My body, stretched as it had been from the aforementioned year, ran, released and yelled as it moved with intention toward the feminine, powerful volcano and called to light things I didn't want to ignore anymore. In the rain, in the steam, I inhaled, exhaled, and let some things go.
I don't want to live in fear in my life. I don't want to negate my own personal responsibility of stewarding the gifts I have been given. That became very clear that day on the volcanic crater.
One thing I do want is to create space for BIPOC women to be able to breathe, to step away from the stressful seasons of their lives and find pockets to exhale, to release, in community.
Brave. Warrior. Free. BREATHE sessions will be pockets of space for anyone who indentifies as BIPOC/female. They will be circles of healing, art in community, and prayer. For more information on how to register for these virtual events, please reach out to Heather Casimere at hcasimere@gmail.com or on the Brave.Warrior.Free. site contact page.
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