Impressionable.  

By Denise Bolds MSW, CD. February 18, 2015.

The news is rampant over Bobbi Kristina Brown being found face down in a bathtub unresponsive. This scenario eerily repeats of her famous mother Whitney Houston who was also found in a bathtub unresponsive and declared dead of a drug overdose February 11, 2012.

What was it like growing up with TWO celebrity parents? The wealth and actions a young impressionable girl witnesses. What impressions were formed and how did that chain of impressionism become a noose around the necks of both Whitney and her daughter Bobbi Kristina?

The term impression is a noun and is defined as:  “An imitation of a person or thing, especially one done to entertain.”

Many times it has been said that “Impression is a form of flattery.” What does this mean for a young Black girl? I can remember Whitney Houston’s mother Cissy and brother Michael were interviewed by Oprah after Whitney’s death, on national television Michael admitted to being the one to introduce Whitney his younger sister to drugs. The look on Cissy’s face was priceless. I don’t know how Michael Houston sleeps at night. A younger sibling is always enamored to the older brother/sister and is highly impressionable of that sibling.

 I can remember my own young years (mid 70’s to early 80’s) all too well, it has a similar tune to Whitney and Michael Houston. I have a sister who is seven years older than me, growing up I adored her. To me she was perfect in all ways and she is beautiful. I wanted to be like her; cool in all ways, graceful, fashionable; she could dance her ass off and braid hair like nobody else. My beautiful sister whom I adored was also heavily into drugs (cocaine).

I wanted to be with my sister as much as possible; go everywhere and be in everything. In my tender adolescence she was godlike to me. We did many things together, then my heart broke, my big sister became distant; we no longer hung out and did things together, she had other friends and they were doing things that I was not a part of and my sister did not expose me to.

Fast forward to 2015: I am 50 years old and successful in many ways (college graduate, professional, parent). I have not spoken to my sister in over 20 years but I know drugs (cocaine & marijuana) have been a part of her life for a very long time. My sister met my son (her nephew) when he was a baby, she gave him “Bear” a toy my son slept with for years and I now keep for his future children.

The epiphany came to me after hearing about Bobbi Kristina Brown: What if my sister introduced me to her life style of drug use? At the highly impressionable age of 12 and onwards I would be an easy, compliant participant because I idolized my sister dearly, I would have used or did anything she requested of me. The miracle is my sister did the complete opposite; she pushed me away from her, the resulting estrangement saved my life.

What would have become of me if I did follow in my sister’s footsteps of drug use? Would I be the person I am today? Would I have my son, my health, strength and integrity? Would I be alive? As impressionable as I was, if my sister gave me drugs to use in my youth I would have; my parents would have lost two daughters not one.

I posed this very same observation to my mother in a phone conversation a few days ago and her response: silence. For me, I think of my sister daily. I want her to see the woman I've become, I owe my success to her ‘abandonment’ of me; had I stuck around and did the “Every Little Step” (As Bobby Brown sang) as she did, my life would be completely different than it is today.

Thinking about Whitney Houston and her brother Michael’s testimony on national television: was there an ulterior motive? Sibling rivalry? It sure was present in my family as my beautiful sister was dark complexion and I was light. I am also the apple of my parent’s eyes, not my choice. Neither my sister nor I asked for this schism by skin color, it is just another avenue in Black family dysfunction.

Did Michael Houston know the possible outcome of his introducing his baby sister Whitney to drugs? Did Michael consider her death and the addiction spreading to his niece, Whitney’s daughter Bobbi Kristina?

As a Black woman I put this very personal blog out to raise awareness and promote positive communication of the destruction of the Black family as a result of drugs: drugs alters lives, separates lives and takes lives. Our young family members are just as vulnerable to their own kin as they are to the world they face every day. As for me, Whitney’s most famous song “I will always love you” resonates so clearly for this Black woman who still loves her sister and misses her each and every day. I remain grateful for my sister's decision of estrangement even in it's severity. What a heavy price to pay. Many Black families have also paid as well as Whitney and Bobbi Kristina. In this case, it is better to just walk away. 

Unhappy? Clap and Get Ready to Change!

“If you’re unhappy and you know it clap your hands! (Clap! Clap). If you’re unhappy and you know it clap your hands! (Clap! Clap). If you’re unhappy and you know it and you don’t know how to show it, if you’re unhappy and you know it…. Clap your hands!

There’s a song very similar to this little ditty I used to sing as a kid. Funny how now older and wiser, I know that clapping my hands during a time of unhappiness/negativity changes that unwanted vibration and introduces a change for the better…..

How many of us are unhappy at something in our lives? I know I was. As a Black female with a master’s degree in corporate America it became blaringly evident that I would have to work 15 times harder, get paid less and never ascribe to the career greatness as my white female peers do effortlessly. I was systematically being shown the presence of racism and I didn't like it.

What once was an awesome career opportunity became a noose around my neck: it got so severe that I would sit in my car in the company parking lot for almost an hour talking myself into going in for another 8- 10 hours of hell. It was getting fugly.

Suddenly, I didn't see the big picture, I didn't speak their language (I am an native American), no one could understand me; I was not a team player. I was given cases that involved people of color because ‘I could understand them.’ The writing was on the wall, the line drawn in the sand. It was time for me to make that change, but how? I didn't know anyone else who experienced what I had or made a change for the better. What was I to do?

It took me a few years, a good therapist, a good labor attorney and a couple more failed tries in the corporate world; I got myself de-branded (It’s like being de-brainwashed after being in a cult) and I rebuilt myself. I explored for a bit and started my own business twice and failed before I gave it another try and I hit success.

BEFORE success I faced many challenges: spiritual (I had to submit fully to my God and faith, I was a consummate control freak who had to surrender control), social (I lost friends who did not support me in my dreams, I am STILL single), financial (gave up many luxuries like cable and eating out) and of course professional (the racism is present in ALL avenues of professions). I learned about my faith and about myself more than ever in my life. I let go and stepped out into the unfamiliar; as a result I became a citizen of the universe – who knew? J.

Another colleague of mine is now at the beginning stage of what I just went through for the past three years. She and I held the same job with the same organization at different times. We shared our stories together and we both agree the job and the people left both of us extremely traumatized.  My colleague gave me praise for stepping out on my own. In just a few months she too did the same: walked away from TWO master’s degrees, a job and career to start up her own business working with animals – she’s white.

I immediately got on the phone to her after receiving her resignation email announcement and I cheered her on and gave her my rousing and sincere support. While many of our peers used her story as fodder for speculation (“all that education and she’s working with dogs…), I immediately understood what happened with this woman and why – the same happened to me. I know her journey will differ from mine; there are still black/white paradigms to cross but there is a bond in the fact that we both made a conscious choice to live outside of the box – to diverge.

It doesn't matter how many degrees you have or how great the job is – at the end of the day if you are not happy with you, if you have lost your vision/dream/big picture, if you are so branded by your profession that gives you a paycheck yet you have no idea whom you are, if you find yourself sickly, depressed, overweight, unfulfilled or UNHAPPY, clap your hands together, then get ready to take action! There IS life outside of the box – YOURS.