The Makings Part I: Coming from where I'm from...

It’s the summer of 1983 and in a small apartment in SE DC a toddler crawls, slides and wobbles her way around a bustling kitchen under the watchful eye of her father while her grandmother prepares their usual morning breakfast. Scrapple sizzles, thick cut bacon slices are turned while eggs and sausage meld with the fire’s heat perfectly (this includes sausage patties and links by the way). Even though the selection is enough to satiate the hardiest appetite, the menu would not be complete without grandma’s famous South Carolina style Quaker grits. And these grits are not just your average tap water grits; these grits have been softened and boiled to perfection with a pot of chicken stock which she made fresh daily by simmering chicken backs on a low light for at least 3 hours. For the final touch our creamy concoction was then topped off with a couple of thick slices of New York Style Sharp Cheddar cheese.

This is where I come from. Down home, soulful and loving southern folk who know how to make your heart and stomach feel loved, welcomed and full (LOL, pun intended!). Looking back I was always amazed by the kitchen. I loved watching my elders making pies from scratch, canning vegetables and transforming produce into edible masterpieces. The colors, smells and tastes of their creations always seemed to bring family together and leave the most wonderful memories in our hearts and mouths.

Unfortunately, as time has passed and we have moved from the fields of the south to the modernized cell blocks of urban infrastructure (aka cubicles), and it seems that this food for our soul has also left us with a deadly legacy to be reckoned with. Diabetes, obesity, high blood pressure, acid reflux, kidney disease and cancer are all a part of this legacy, my family legacy. Now of course food is not the only source of these health problems; stress, lack of exercise and lifestyle all play a part. As I grew older and matured, began to see how the combination of an unhealthy lifestyle and poor eating habits destroyed one’s health.

I spent a majority of my life eating whatever, whenever I pleased. Ghetto sweet Kool-aid for days, steak and cheese sandwiches, jaw-breakers, pork rinds and red Rock Creek sodas from the local corner store and of course every DC Native’s favorite – the infamous chicken wings with Mambo sauce and fries. And who even thought about working out?! Unless we were in gym class or walking to catch the metro the only time I thought about breaking a sweat was on a Friday or Saturday night when me and my girls used to be club hoppers and show stoppers at the Go-Go's. However during my last two years of high school I began experiencing personal revelations about the woman I wanted to be once I entered college and transitioned into the “real world.”

The new and improved Dulce in my mind would be a woman that expressed herself and embraced her natural beauty. She would be a woman that could stand outside in the rain and let the drops caress her thick tresses instead of running from them for the sake saving her hair-do. She would be a woman that knew how to pick fresh fruit and grow veggies in her own garden. She would be a woman that was artistic and free with skin that glowed like the sunshine. And most importantly, she would be a woman that was healthy, fit and lived long enough to experience the joy of playing with and cooking for her grand and great-grandchildren.

My journey towards improved physical fitness and dietary habits has been a long and often lonely one. Each time I wanted throw in the towel and disregard my lofty dreams for the sake of convenience, I was reminded that our decisions are literally a matter of life and death especially when it comes to our health as African Americans. Although I have come a long way, I realize that this is just another beginning for me.

Death’s clutches captured and embraced two of my most beloved family members right before my eyes. I knew deep down inside that after witnessing this, my life (and lifestyle) would never be the same again.

Stay tuned for The Makings Part II: Her Final Call…