• Obabi

The MisGrownUp’fication of Cortni Grange

Updated: May 24

I have watched my parent‘s life choices and I have watched what it has got them. I paid attention to the connections between their actions and their circumstances. I studied how they loved, how they related to other people, and even how they went about pursuing their passions and careers. I watched, I paid attention, and I studied, but most of all, I learned.


Learn: to gain or acquire knowledge of or skill in (something) by study, experience, or being taught.

There’s one particular thing I learned from my parents as early as 10 years old that I’m just now fully understanding; how to be an adult (a person who makes mistakes, messes things up, and focuses on survival rather than growth).


there weren’t many grown ups in my household (diligent, responsible, emotionally aware, human being) to show me how to be a grown up, but I damn sure learned how to be an adult. But now, as I continue to allow myself to grow up I realize that 6 good months of self mastery and surrender can change 60 combined years of preprogrammed parental paradigms. I love my parents dearly! I love how they set the stage up for me to become what I have become. Their knowledge has become my wisdom and as a grown up, I know that I am responsible for putting that wisdom to work instead of simply sitting on it. Now, I absolutely learned all this the hard way. At least, up until about 2 years ago. I accept the truth that unknown amounts of time are often necessary for true growth and I no longer run from that. I learned the hard way how to define myself. I learned the hard way how to have genuine relationships. I learned the hard way how to balance your passions, purpose and paychecks. I learned the hard way how, and why to have a significant other. I’m learning the hard way how to be a parent (parenting I feel the best about because it teaches me agape love). And I learned the hard way that, it’s all alright. I am alright. The narrative of my life is alright. It is not damned, nor shameful, nor even mediocre. It’s the story of many black men raised in my lifetime. Taught (directly and indirectly) how safe to play one thing or another and that the abundance at the middle of the road often gets overlooked seeking disgustingly harmful success. We all have a space in us that’s still misseducated. And that’s ok too.





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