Palm Trees & Pools
On showing up, or trying to
When I originally started writing this post I was flying back from a work trip in Los Angeles. I was fighting with the Wi-Fi and was reminded I didn’t need it to write. So instead of mindlessly scrolling, answering emails, or window shopping, I wrote a few reflections from my trip. The night before I flew out I had drinks with friends and they asked me why I hadn’t shared anything here in a while. My response, “I don’t know what to write about.” Their rebuttal, “Write about this.”
I was in LA for work, which consumed more of my trip than I’m used to. Usually I have more time for play: happy hours, eating at the repeat restaurants everyone loves (Superba, Laurel Hardware, and Jon & Vinny’s I am looking directly at you), and sitting at Soho House to make the membership fee worth it. This time, I didn’t make as many plans—well, I couldn’t. I got a personal dinner in one evening, but the work days were just that. It’s funny because this is the season I always find myself in LA. Apple memories reminded me of my trip this time last year for work, and before then April 2023, and before then April 2022! What is it with April?! Only one of those was post Coachella. Those were such different versions of me, and the people I call friends and family, my community. There are children now (some older than others), new relationships, new singledom, new jobs, new homes—the things that you don’t realize change everyone’s worlds and how you fit into them.
I’ll tell anyone who listens that I don’t love LA. The perfectly blue skies and palm tree-lined streets feel too good to be true. I find the city hard to navigate, I don’t like being in traffic, and community seems tougher to come across. Proximity is like, not a thing. I found in the past when I would ask for recommendations for bars, coffee shops, and just the go-to’s in neighborhoods, it was hard to get an answer. I do think it’s changed slightly since again, people have changed and so have their hoods.
That Sunday, I sat at brunch with my friends splitting my energy and attention between work and two people I was happy to see. Work called. It always does. It put me in a mood where I found myself sitting in my friend’s home, couch rotting, annoyed. I looked outside and realized it was the perfect sunny day. The kind I dream about on cloudy days (like today). It was my favorite day of the week and was laid out irritated. I told myself to shake it off. So I did. I decided to go to my friend Sarah’s launch event for Issue 3 of It’s Okay To Try (I wrote an essay in Issue 2). I’m glad I did. First, Offhand is a very cool wine bar run by some cool dudes. If you’re in LA, please go! It was a different energy than what I’m used to in LA, and not as pretentious as some wine bars can be. It was also booming on the ones. I mean packed. And they get great light. I ran into an old coworker I also hadn’t seen in 7 years or so, maybe even longer. My cold attitude was defrosting. I wore a fun outfit, leopard and stripes, because why not?! I forced myself to remember where I was and that free will is a thing. Drink the natty wine, talk to some strangers, and put the phone down for a second. I loved seeing this side of Sarah’s community. The place was packed with people supporting this dream of hers and some of the small business owners she featured in the magazine, Offhand included.
Sitting in someone else’s community made me think more about mine. The roads that have led me to the people I love and how these friendships have sustained so many years of life’s highest highs and lowest of low seasons. What a gift it is. I value my community a lot. I’ve traversed 37 years of life as a single woman with a smaller immediate family. I don’t take friendship or community lightly. I keep people around me that I want to show up for, not that I have to show up for. I’ve struggled with feeling like some of my friendships are out of obligation or the idea of someone showing up is because they don’t want me to be upset or that the length of our friendship requires them to. In my personal journey, it’s something I’ve worked hard to rid myself of. My boundary setting is more about making sure I can show up, in my best (at least okay) self. I’m not a flawless friend but I can stand ten toes down and say my intentions have always been pure. I text when people cross my mind. If I’m checking in, I do because I genuinely care. I’ve been the planner and the people wrangler for a long time (not so much anymore) and I’ve struggled with this idea of not being needed. Do these relationships exist if I’m not the one initiating outreach for someone else to have a good time? I won’t lie, in the quiet moments, when there’s nothing to celebrate or mourn, I can’t help but to wonder “Do you think about me still?” (How many Frank Ocean references can I have in this post? lol). Jokes aside, these days I find myself pondering on themes like this more than not.
Recently, I’ve had some friends go through some real shit. Things that made me pray hard, and reassess how I show up. What the proverbial they say is true: you never know what people are enduring behind closed doors—or right in front of you. I’m thankful for friendships that allow me to be vulnerable and go deeper with my loves and my fears, irrational or not. And I’m thankful for the ability to identify emotional maturity in others and separate some deeper relationships from the friendships that are just for vibes. I don’t hate a vibe friendship but I’ve had to learn some hard lessons about them. I once had a friend tell me she doesn’t spend a lot of time on Instagram because it’ll have her questioning how she’s perceived as a friend because of who and what people do or don’t post. I love a good photo but my goal isn’t to be a photo opp friend. I care too much for that. With that comes some recategorization, which is also hard work. Having a boundary that everyone can’t come, and everyone can’t benefit from the friendship of Kamaria if it’s not reciprocal or better yet, I’m exerting a level of emotional energy they can only meet with surface level shit. Writing this I almost went down the road of talking about what’s upsetting me more than focusing on who’s here and who continues to show up for me.
I had someone tell me, “maybe everyone doesn’t have the same capacity you do.” Well, what if I don’t? There was a season when I felt like I was getting too much inbound. I posted the other day on Threads this lyric from Lekan’s “Give & Take,” where he croons, “Who can I save when I too need saving?” I recognize that this looks different for different people, but you can never say I didn’t try. In LA, I was tired, and my brain felt like mush, but what was most important was me making time to see the people I care about even if they got the mushy brain version. Everyone asked how the trip was. My answer: it was stressful, but seeing my friends made it all worth it. I know I said I hate LA but being there forced me to slow down. With less places to go and things to do, the time I shared with my people was intentional. Real unabashed conversations that don’t happen via text or in quick FaceTimes.
I got back to New York exhausted and hit the ground running with a packed calendar between work and play. While in LA I had signed on for another project after getting rejected for an opportunity that had me dreaming about Bottega again, and a fun Met Gala opportunity that was rewarding but also took up more time than I anticipated. My weekend was full of Uber hopping and trying to show up for myself, the things I said I’d do, and my friends. All cylinders were going on Met Gala Monday, I worked all fifty-eleven of my jobs and ended the day at a party that I’d never thought I’d make it into—again, the power of friends. I had one day of recovery (barely) and the work continued then preparing for another trip in the midst of it all. Where to you ask? Rihanna’s hometown.
My Bajan friend invited us to Barbados to celebrate his 35th birthday. I had promised that with advance notice, I’d be there. 20 of us showed up to the island to celebrate him and he made every second and cent worth it. I’m used to being the one corralling folks so being a guest was nice, and it was my first time in the Caribbean no less. There was a moment he found himself verklempt about the fact that all of us were there, in his hometown. It wasn’t close, convenient, or an “easy” trip, but he meant enough to all of us there that showing up was the least we could do. That’s the kind of friend I always hope to be. Group trips are so funny because I am surrounded by a lot of big personalities and the fight for attention can feel meme-worthy but I really wouldn’t trade it for anything. I caught up with folks, sat in silence sometimes, ate a bunch of good food, and let my toes get lost in the softest sand, all surrounded by many people I really care about.
In these weeks the book came up, as it always does. Ups and downs, chile. I’m closer than I’ve ever been but still not there. I have a new “source of truth” outline/document that’s a true plan with boxes to literally check. I did an audit of all my writing and came up with a new outline: what do I have for each section, what’s missing, how many words do I have that I love. Every time I sit to write, I’m following that guide. I got advice that has me excited to dedicate time to the muddy middle of the book. I really just need time…and space. Which I’m blessed to say is coming very soon. June is a huge writing month for me. More on that later or never just know the goal is to lock tf in. This is pretty long but I never want to lose sight of the goal so I’m sharing an excerpt anyway. I’ve been deep in Violet’s world as she experiences these first few days of displacement. This is part of that.
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“Hi Auntie Tracy! How are you?” Violet asked without trying to be too loud. Tracy was June’s first cousin, based in Chicago. Violet’s granny and Tracy’s mom were sisters, the latter migrating from Hattiesburg in the 1920s. Tracy was one of Violet’s favorite family members. If she were to ever model after a god parent, it would be Tracy. She took her role very seriously and Violet knew if she needed anything, Tracy was the one person she could call. Tracy didn’t visit often but when she did, her visits were impactful. She left remnants all around their lives and house—a new dress for Violet here, a glammed up night out for June there, and the best pound cake around for snacking until it was inevitably gone. The summer before Violet started at Evergreen, Tracy flew her to Chicago for a girls’ week. They went shopping on the Magnificent Mile, had lunch at the Ralph Lauren mansion, and visited the salon for blowouts. Tracy was fabulosity personified. “You know we’re over here in Hattiesburg with Uncle George and Aunt Mae. We finally have a generator. It’s been five days of eating barbecue—and you know mom doesn’t eat pork—five days of sweating out my hair in my sleep and when I do literally anything, and almost five days without a phone. I won’t complain. I hear it’s really bad in New Orleans so I’m glad we left.” Violet rocked in the bed as Tracy reported the news as if she were on ABC’s payroll. She talked about the flooding, the looting, and that there were already some New Orleanians who had made their way to Chicago. Violet was shocked by that. “Really? That’s far!” Their call continued with Tracy asking Violet what she and June were going to do next and Violet going into further detail about the past five days.
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Thank you for reading and I am so glad you’re here. Don’t stop asking if I’ll ever finish (just maybe don’t ask me like that.) This is the dream and it’s a real one. I often want to shy away from talking about it because it forces me to face my own uncomfortable truths about how long this has taken and my lack of focus, but none of that changes that it’s still something I deeply desire to see through. So I may cringe, but I promise you asking me about it still makes my day…because that means you believe I can actually do it.
Until next time… <3
As long as I’m there, you’ve always got a place in L.A. 🫶🏾