Jaja in Turns 1!

When I got the job that would bring me to LA, I was told it would be for just three months, and so that’s what I told my friends. The more astute ones knew not to believe me. I was not astute. 

LA is the seventh city I’ve lived in, and the previous six have taught me many lessons, but the most important one is to trust in people. What many people don’t know is that I moved here on 10 days notice. And in that time, I had to find a place to live, tie up my life in NYC, and move. 

My friend, Jen, picked me up from the airport and drove me to my new apartment, which I’d found in a secret Facebook group. Thankfully, the only things wrong were that the bed was actually a futon, and that Jen lived on the other side of the city, which in LA basically means she’s in Nevada! But otherwise, it was perfect. 

My first month in LA was good, and I decided to stay for Thanksgiving. So I wouldn’t be alone, my cousin suggested I join her then-boyfriend, now husband’s family dinner. I went. We clicked. And they adopted me. In many ways, they became my support, safety net, safe house, and safe space. 

Knowing that his family is here to rescue me gives me the confidence to experiment, explore, and take risks. 

It’s paid off, because I’ve been blessed with incredible friends who are always looking out for me. Sometimes they show their love in traditional ways, like gifts or invitations to dinner. But sometimes it’s more surprising. Take my apartment, for example. It’s my reason for choosing to stay in LA, and I’m here because my friend, Johnny, saw on Instagram that I was at a cafe nearby and invited me over for lunch. It was the same day his girlfriend was moving in, and, as he was building furniture, he said, “You know that apartment up there is available, and it’s not on the market yet…”

Two weeks later, when I moved in, his girlfriend, Jackie, offered me all of her old dishes, kitchen supplies, and their extra coffee grinder. When my cousin’s in-laws were renovating their house, they gave me their couch. When my friend Jahmelia, who was my yoga instructor and first friend in LA, decided she didn’t want her chair anymore, she offered it to me. Carl, a friend whom I met in an UberPool and whom I reconnected with in Jahmelia’s yoga class, drove me across town to pick it up. Yesterday, my friend Jonté, whom I know from New York, offered me his television. 

The only furniture I’ve bought for my place is my mattress, and a still unconstructed IKEA dresser. Maybe I’ve never felt alone, because even when I’m home by myself I’m still surrounded by my friends. 

You might remember that Jaja in started because I was frustrated with how things were happening in other parts of my life, and I needed an outlet. I had no plan, no vision, just an email list with 60 subscribers. You might also remember how much of a hot mess those early days were, and yet you continued to support me with thoughtful responses and simple notes of encouragement. That means a lot to me. 

One of my dear loves, Cassidy, has replied to every single post with love and positivity— each one makes me feel good. These gestures matter, and so does the tally of people who open the email every week, each one a little signal that someone that’s not my mom or my aunt is out there, and that they still care. 

We have reached one year, and together we have read nearly 40,000 words, listened to 10 original audio pieces, and watched a video. 

I feel proud, grateful, surprised, motivated and inspired by what we have created. But most of all, I feel supported. And it was your support every week that allowed me to engage with the scarier parts of my own life in ways that translated into action and change. 

I’ve learned that I am a poor predictor of my future, but I know that because you are behind me, I will be ready and positioned to seize opportunities that come. 

I want to thank each of you for reading, for donating, for sharing, and for spending time with me each week. I knew early on that your support made this project possible, but I’m realizing more and more that support is what makes me, and all of us, possible. 

It’s a lesson that I’m grateful to have learned in this way, and one that I will carry forward. 

This has been a great year, and I’m excited to see what more we accomplish together. 

Xox,
Jaja