On things of which I am not exactly well versed…

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On things of which I am not exactly well versed…

On things of which I am not exactly well versed…

Dear Reader,

It is so easy to forget the dawn when dusk is upon us. To keep looking forward when what it is behind… is an ugly indescribable. But as I move forward. I feel as if the past is calling my name. As if some shy voice is hoping that I will listen, hoping that I will care. And remember, that once upon a time I too, was there. I remember what low expectation feels like. How my lower class brothers and sisters got pushed to the back, ignored, and shirked off to the next teacher’s class. I remember detention was always a brown colored situation. Such an ironic occurrence when we made up less than 5 percent of the school’s population. Too naive to fight for our future we simply delighted in the opportunity to be with other brown kids. We exchanging tongues like a gumbo pot of espana and Swahili and patwa and native these tongues, we exchanged through smile and silent understanding. This is my brother, she is my sister and together we don’t have to feel like a stain on what seemed like such a white world. White principals, white teachers, white counselors, white bus drivers, even white security guards. I remember being afraid. Feeling the need to exist as if I had not noticed these things in order to get ahead and get out. Or the fear that something inside of me had died for the sake of success. 

 

Alas… once success has taken its place in my life I am told… “watch what you say.” Such is the response to my desire to express my sadness at the fact that 10 years later and my past still looks no different from my present. My people are frozen in political time. We still suffer from how other people view us. We have not learned to decipher what is in our own mirror. And so we shed tears of racism and hope that somebody cares that we are crying. Knee deep in snot and tissues my fellow Americans tell me to “SHUT UP!”

Silence…

I don’t know much. Am not well versed in how others view the Black predicament until this very moment. But I am beginning to understand… They don’t care. It is not their children committing mass homicide against each other in Chicago. Not their children falling to the bullet by the hundreds annually. How do I know? Because it is not on the news. Their mothers don’t cry murder when neighborhood police officers have nothing more to offer than excessive violence and premature deadly force. Their mothers aren't subject to their dead children’s name being slung in the mud because… they must have deserved to die; must have been a thug; must have gotten bad grades in school; must have been carrying more than skittles in his pocket; must have done something deserving death. Because children of any race, orientation, and color deserve death... right? Because black homicides aren’t news… Because they happen everyday… Because that is the black predicament. 

I wonder when it will be that we decide to define ourselves? To stop being victims and become true victors. To use our resources to better own people… to fight assimilation and contentment. To stop being so selfish. To put our money back into our own neighborhoods… our own families… To be our OWN police. Monitoring our young men and women and raising them to a NEW STANDARD! To declare war on our own mediocracy as opposed to the white man’s hate and indifference toward us. We need not fear every white person. They don’t all hate us. But even if they did… what use would it be to spend a lifetime trying to convince them to love us, when we have failed to love ourselves. We are the answer to our own predicament. Be so good they can’t deny you. Be so unforgettable that their opinion no longer matters. Be so revolutionary the surrounding world must evolve… or die. 

In the words of the GREAT Martin Luther King Jr.

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”

Let us learn how to shine together as a people!

Let us no longer be deceived in thinking the white man is the enemy. Indeed we have beaten ourselves long before the battle began. Historically speaking, it is we who sold ourselves into slavery... If then we are now free, let us live like it. Exercising our right to education, love, freedom, the pursuit of happiness. Our RIGHT to BE SOMEBODY!

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I Started Vlogging!!! :D

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I Started Vlogging!!! :D

Whatup #YoungWorld!

Hey #Heir_Born3 FAMILY! I am sooo excited to explore another medium of sharing my life and experience as a professional Track and Field athlete! Be sure to SUBSCRIBE to my YouTube Channel (bitly.com/Heir_Born3)  and stay tuned for the next episode. If you guys have any ideas for future videos please let me know, I would love to incorporate them. Join the Journey, the road is rough, but the reward is so worth it! 

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Fight Like A Girl in Our 'Christ Up' Tee!

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Fight Like A Girl in Our 'Christ Up' Tee!

Dear Reader!

I am excited to inform you about the 'Christ Up' Tee I am selling in honor of Breast Cancer Month! Both my Mother and Grandmother battled Breast Cancer. And as a woman there is a good chance I might do the same sometime in my life. It may seem like a scary thought, but the fact of the matter is Breast Cancer is no longer an automatic death sentence. Strong women EVERYWHERE are fighting back and WINNING! And this is all thanks to the God above and the AMAZING work of women and supporters all over the world who have succeeded greatly in raising money to fund research for a cure and treatments. So Fight Like A Girl and get your Tee today! Lets show Breast Cancer whose BOSS :)

All Inquiries email me at: BBARRETT411@GMAIL.COM

***They are running out fast so be sure to move quickly!

Sizes [S-XL]

Prices: $20 each or 2 for $35

Christ Up Collage.jpg



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"This One's For You" My Olympic Story

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"This One's For You" My Olympic Story

Dear reader,

Once upon a time I was afraid of my own shadow. Couldn't stand the man in the mirror so I shattered my own reflection. Left distorted views of myself that would have me struggling to see who I truly was. 

Lost.

I became consumed by my own insecurities and forgot how to love myself. And so I simply decided that others shouldn't either. But God loved me. And God knew, in the words of the timeless Lauryn Hill, "that even though fantasy is what I wanted, reality is what I needed." So He didn't take the pain away because He knew that I could handle it, and that someone else would need me to show them exactly how. So here I am... being vulnerable and showing you all my scars. And hopefully you can see the beauty in my flaws. You see, these scars are the glory of God and proclaim His victory over the trials in my life. I am here. And so I survived. And so can you...

 

I would like to thank the Lord, all of my family, friends, loved ones, and fans! This one is for YOU! (P.S. Click the photo hehe!)


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Life Is But A Vapor

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Life Is But A Vapor

"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."        John 3:16

Dear Reader,

If you give me your eyes, I promise to give you my heart...

I guess you can say it’s been one of those days. I kicked it off with a great day at the office; a nice core workout followed by some lifting and plyos. I then grabbed some groceries on the way home and was all set to make a nice little birthday dinner for a close friend of mine. As I pull in to park, I see my mother standing on the porch with a face unspeakable… (It’s one of those days). 

Lets pause for a moment.

Lately my mother and I have been reading a book entitled Crazy Love by: Francis Chan. We are fresh into it so yesterday we finished the second chapter. And what sticks out so vividly about this chapter is the statement, “life is but a vapor.” Francis Chan takes the time to point out the fact that within the entire time of the universe, we would amount to no more than a blink of the eye. And within that blink, we will either have impacted the lives of others, or not. The movie of life has but one star, God. And our roles as extras within this film serve as no greater purpose than to point others to Him. Wether or not we choose to acknowledge Him or not… He IS God. And for those of us who have humbly accepted the precious gift of Salvation, what greater purpose does our life hold than to make sure the people in our lives don’t die before they do the same? 

Lets take it back. 

So I am standing before my mother on the porch, groceries in hand when I ask, “What’s wrong?” To put it plainly:

  1. My cousin committed suicide

  2. My twin sister’s friend was gunned down in New York

  3. Her other friend almost ended her life by jumping off of a building. 

It’s one of THOSE days…

And all I can think is, “Life is but a vapor.” 

I begin to wonder… how much do I matter? What is my education, athletic ability, artistic gifts, relationships, impact, etc… what is it all worth if I don’t use it to make someone else's life better? And then I begin to ask my self… what is the definition of making someone’s life better? Like how will I KNOW that I have succeeded in truly doing so? (Join me down this rabbit hole for a moment) 

Life = a slow death. It is literally the process of dying slowly. 

So would a “better life” mean finding a better way to die slowly, or finding a way NOT to die at all? I think I’ll choose NOT to die. But most people would be fine with the best way to die slowly. For example, they would choose to be rich, beautiful, finely clothed, popular, and be #WINNING in this thing called life, rather than store up heavenly treasures. They have no concept of Heaven or Hell that they actually believe in and so they don’t care. The reality is that wether you are rich, poor, or in-between life is hard and full of tears, pain, and disappointment. But there too is a place where God promises will be no more crying (Heaven)!

I am thankful for today and all that has happened. It reminds me that I have a mission. A responsibility to all that I know and meet to stand back and let God, the star of the Universe shine in their lives. I pray you have made the decision to accept Christ as your Lord and Savior. Because we are all running out of time.

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#Heir_Born3 Going 4 Gold Give Away!!!

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#Heir_Born3 Going 4 Gold Give Away!!!

As a HUGE symbol of Fan Appreciation I am so excited to present to you my first Give Away EVER!!!! Starting today (August 29th) I will be hosting the event on Instagram (Follow Me @Heir_Born3). As @ComplexSneakers announced earlier today on Instagram the Jordan Brand has confirmed that they will stop producing the Air Jordan Retro 3’s.

So for all of you who may have missed out or are just looking to add to your collection here goes!!! These are the details:

  • The giveaway will run from August 29th - September 8th
  • Last chance to enter is midnight PST of Sept 8th
  • The winner will be announced on September 9th
  • The Prize: A Free Pair of ‘Sport Blue’ Air Jordan Retro 3s

To Enter:

  1. Repost and Hashtag the above photo on the left (It will be available on Instagram @Heir_Born3)
  2. Go to:  bit.ly/heir_born3  and sign up for your chance to WIN
  3. CROSS YOUR FINGERS & HAVE FUN

***Please Note:

    -Last chance to enter will be midnight PST Sept 8th

    -ALL ENTRIES MUST Repost, Hashtag, AND go to bit.ly/heir_born3 in order to be considered.

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In Loving Memory of Torrin Lawrence

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In Loving Memory of Torrin Lawrence

Dear Reader,

One week ago today one early morning on Monday July 28, 2014 Team USA, America, and many Family, Friends, and Loved ones lost one of our very own. Torrin L. Lawrence was killed in a car accident as he was making his way home to Jacksonville, Florida. The 25 year old had successfully established himself as a 400 meter stand out as a member of both the University of Georgia and Team USA. Most recently claiming Gold at the World Relays as a Team USA and Nike athlete. It is an honor to be able to take the time to honor his life. Rest In Peace Torrin Lawrence may your Track Wings fly in Heaven and your footprints on Earth never fade. 

"May Your Track Wings Fly In Heaven"

They almost seem too young to fly

Their wings aren’t yet so long

They almost seem too young to fly

Too young to miss 

Too young to mourn

They almost seem too young to fly

We want to hold them in our arms

They almost seem too young to fly

May Jesus teach them and lead them home

Well what of memories of moments passed

What must the living do with those

What with laughter at our backs

No chance of new ones

No chance at all

Well what with dreams and precious talents

The young they seem a jewel so rare

When the good die young, we lose it all

It always feels so unfair

Well lace your spikes up Torrin Lawrence

You now have quite the job to do

For God himself has called you home

To run with Angels in golden shoes

So May Your Track Wings Fly In Heaven

Your footprints on Earth shall never fade

Your heart of Gold lay here on Earth

You spirit soar at Heaven’s Gates

They almost seem too young to fly

And that’s the beauty of it all

At any moment we will die

But only some of us will soar...

                      -Brigetta Barrett

R.I.P Torrin Lawrence

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The Freedom To Fail

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The Freedom To Fail

"If you give me your eyes, I promise to give you my heart." -Brigetta Barrett

Dear Reader,

I must confess... I'm not cocky, I'm not confident, I'm terrified...

One thing I love about success is… SUCCESS! Literally the feeling of achieving something that you set out to do. It is the acquisition of accomplishment that makes you feel complete. In this moment I am a validated human being. I have purpose. I have value. I AM important. Why is it so hard to feel these things without success? Hypothetically, If I accomplish nothing. If I simply exist in this world until I die aren’t I still valuable, important, and purposeful? Don’t I still deserve to be loved… or do I? These thoughts make me begin to hate success almost as much as I love it. Never do I wish to feel enslaved by anything in this world. More than anything I wish to live and die free. But I have become addicted to hand claps. It is the sound of palm kissing palm that says I’ve got the world’s attention now. I am the conductor and they are my orchestra. It is how I know that never ever in life should I ever even think about THINKING to do drugs. My blood beats passion. And every day it is shed in sacrifice to my dreams. My body is a tool of accomplishment and I will never stop until my veins run cold. The rising and setting of my lungs have become accustomed to the sharp clasp of the clap. I have a problem, my mind no longer recognizes the difference between living to achieve a dream and achieving a dream to live. These are the times I find myself actually believing that it is what I do that makes me valuable. And it is so easy to fall into this hype. Track and Field can seem so unforgiving in this way. When you are on the top, everyone is there screaming your name and supporting you. But let this change and you may find the screams may not be quite as loud and there may be far less people smiling in your face saying nice things. This is a situation I greatly feared as I became a professional High Jumper. To be honest, I did not know if I could handle such extreme rejection. I see the tweets and criticism of athletes like Lolo Jones, football players that make mistakes on the field, basketball players that have an off game, I see it all. And I think to myself, where are those people when we are in the gym working so hard? Or I think about the fact that those same people can be so cruel and critical and yet… when they make a mistake on the job, are there thousands of people booing at them, or do they have to worry about being harassed on social media… probably not. But this is the inheritance success has handed us right? Deal with it or don’t let it happen, right? Wrong. This past year I have learned the most important lesson of my career… I am surrounded by a God, family, friends, and TRUE FANS that love me for me! And that is more than I could ever ask for. I will never forget my first experience at Drake Relays this year. I had been been battling a small flu and lost badly the nights leading up to competition. Never the less I drug myself out of bed, put on some lipstick, some Nike and a smile and I did my best. Ultimately I lost the competition. But as I began to walk off the field and out of the stadium the crowd began to chant my name… “Barrett, Barrett, Barrett.” Don’t they know I just lost? I thought to myself… I smiled in disbelief and waved to such a loyal and loving group of people in sheer gratitude. They love me, I thought to myself. They love ME. And in that moment I felt free. Free to fail and free to succeed. A gift given to me by my fans, friends, family, and God in what has proven to be the most trying year of my life... Thank you.

One thing I love about success… freedom. And I aint never going back.

Sincerely,

Me

 

Photo Cred: Jeff Cohen of Track and Field Image (http://www.trackandfieldimage.com)

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A Beautiful Dream...

If you give me your eyes, I promise to give you my heart…

Dear Reader,

By definition, a confession is a formal statement admitting that one is guilty of a crime. Well today I am most definitely guilty! What is my crime you ask? Good question…

When I was just a little girl I asked my mother, “what will I be?” Will I be pretty, will I be rich; here’s what she said to me… “Que Sera Sera! Whatever will be will be… About 15 months ago I was at a track meet staring at my phone waiting to hear the news that my niece had finally made her way into this world. As much as I wished I could be there I was slightly relieved not to have the duty of holding my older sister’s leg, watching her push a human being into this world. I felt useless and irrelevant, that once again my life as a Track and Field athlete has robbed me of an irreplaceable experience. I seem to miss everything: birthdays, anniversaries, my mother’s battle with cancer.… the list goes on. But it never gets easier. In moments like this I like to hold onto the feeling of disappointment, the tinged feeling of loss that comes with sacrifice. I save all of these memories for major championships. It is that moment when I am done warming up, sitting in the tent waiting to be walked into the stadium that I force myself to remember. Because in my heart I know one thing. That this is the moment I give worth to sacrifice. This is redemption. Failure is not an option because the price of success is not cheap and at this point I have definitely paid my dues! This is where I cash my check. So it’s the night before I compete and I am sitting in a hotel room waiting for my phone to ring; some call or text to say, “She’s here!” In anticipation I began to think to myself, maybe I am not entirely useless in this moment. So I did the next best thing to actually being there; I got down on my knees and I prayed. And all I could think to say is… “Dear God, please… let her be beautiful! Let her be kind, let her be intelligent, let her be righteous. But God of mercy PLEASE let her be beautiful…” 

Amen. 

And I sat there wondering if my prayer made me a horrible person. If I had proven to be the most shallow person that has ever walked the Earth… When I was a little girl, I had a dream that I was beautiful. I would run outside and spread out on the grass and feel the sun dancing on my eyelids. I would lay there and dream about her, this woman with hair like an African Pocahontas, wild and curly kissing at her hips. The most untamed mane you’ve never seen. She’s wearing denim overalls that hug only at her breast and hips. Her skin is sun kissed and the complexion turns with the seasons; caramel in the winter, milk chocolate in the summer. She never wears shoes and her hands are always flying in the wind as if searching the air for Angel wings, if she closes her eyes and spins around real fast she can almost catch one. But those Angels are always too fast, occasionally they slow down just enough to let her fingertips cop a feel… This way she always has something to believe in. I always dream that dream. That I am her and one day, she’ll turn around and her face will be mine, my face will be hers, and I’ll have a smile that tells even the moon when to shine. 

I once had a dream that I was beautiful, the problem is I just keep waking up. 

"Beautiful is kind words and a helping hand,
Beautiful is fairy tails and dream weddings,
Beautiful is freedom,
Is walking the streets like a god
Beautiful is validating fathers and loving mothers
Beautiful is never having to learn ugliness from another man’s lips
Beautiful isn’t white skin or light eyes or big butts or wide hips or big lips or found in hip hop songs
Beautiful is always being able to embrace a mirror
Beautiful isn’t lost between her legs 
But found between her ears
Beautiful is a glass ceiling that too many girls have hit
Beautiful…
It is the lock and the key
And I just want her to put 2 and 2 together so that one day she can define it 4 herself
Dear God,
Let her be beautiful…. 
And never let her forget."

When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother what will I be… 

Will I be pretty, will I be rich? I say be both. The way I see it, beautiful is a richness only the spirit can feel. I am still striving towards my dream, where once upon a time it was shattered by insecurity because someone told I was ugly and I believed it. That is a reality I pray my niece will never experience. So was my prayer shallow? Maybe. But I don’t care, as long she never knows what it feels like to fear the other side of a mirror. 

The crime? Treason. I betray myself every time I accept anything but kindness and respect from another person. Insecurities allow us to let other people to treat us like less than, because we begin to deem ourselves unworthy of anything better. To be honest sticks and stones didn’t break me, but words almost killed me… and I almost let it. 

Dear reader, 

Thank you for letting me borrow your eyes. Until next time, never forget to love yourself.

Sincerely, 

Me

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Not Quite a Confession..

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Not Quite a Confession..

Dear Reader, 

If you give me your eyes, I promise to give you my heart. I don’t know much... but hopefully I still have a lot more life to live, and as I live, let me learn. But I have lived. And this, is a story about those experiences. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Brigetta Barrett.... feel free to call me BB or create your very own nickname (many people do). I grew up in New York and moved to Texas to finish my last two years of High School. Upon graduation I was blessed with an athletic scholarship to the University of Arizona where I graduated with a Degree in Theatre Arts. And in 2012 God gave me an Olympic Silver Medal for competing in the Women’s High Jump as an early birthday gift. Thank You Jesus :) 

P.S. BEST EARLY B-DAY GIFT TO DATE hehe

Anywhoooo, that is me in the smallest nutshell I could create. In case it is not obvious by now, I am a Christian. COMPLETELY Un-Ashamed of the Gospel. In fact, I am honored to share this with you! None the less I am still human. I cry (a lot... please don’t tell anyone... oops), I sweat, I smell - occasionally O_o, I bleed sometimes too. Oh! I and breathe, like Oxygen, mixed in with Carbon Dioxide (what is THAT about). As I said before, I don't know much... I know that heartbreak feels like your suffocating on all of the tears you’ve ever cried. I know disappoint feels like that moment you got stood-up by the sun. I know sunsets remind you that long days are actually worth something. I know human, is just another word for flawed, and flawed is just another way to say that you are perfectly fine just the way you are. At least, thats the way I see it anyways. Like the title says, these are the “Confessions of A Me” In other words, Superman... meet Clark. When I was little I used to dream that I could fly. I know when you're little they teach us to share, but in sharing I have learned that other people don't handle the things you hold dear with quite the same amount of care. So I kept my dreams to myself. But after tasting the moon, no one's going stop me from going for the sun. I am Heir Borne, Co-Heirs with Christ, Borne of His Spirit, and freer than I've ever been! Thanks again for letting me borrow your eyes. Until next time you can have them back. 

Sincerely, 

Me

 

Photo Cred: Jampes Patrick Photography

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