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Dear White People . . . I Have the Right to Be Angry

*If you are my friend and you are White, – if this offends you, contact me.  Have the difficult conservation with me.  If you aren’t willing to have a conversation with me about this, we aren’t really friends.*

I’ve started to see every white person I don’t know as the enemy/a threat.  I’m not exactly sure when it first started, but it was probably around the time that Mike Brown was murdered.  I didn’t grow up afraid of White people. Even though my mother made sure I knew the history of the United States, I lived the first 32 years of my life believing in the goodness of all people, regardless of their skin color.

I THOUGHT I understood racism.  I thought racism was dying out, and racism was just based on old ideals, in the south. I thought as we spent more time conversing and getting to know each other, racism would die.  After all, “Some of my BEST FRIENDS ARE WHITE.” They love me and I love them. They’ve never treated me any differently because I was Black*.

Racism is the herpes of -isms. Sometimes you forget it’s even there. But then, there is a flare up that very lewdly reminds you, “Oh Bitch, I NEVER Left.” It’s been there, lurking under the surface just waiting to ruin your whole got damn day. Be it the random white dude who won’t let you over on the freeway, to the lady checking your math, right after you give her the total, about money She Owes You. Or even, The News.

Before Mike Brown, I felt like the bad apples would eventually see the error in their ways, and we would all live together in harmony. Post-Ferguson, when people I’ve known my whole life wouldn’t stand up and speak up, I was . . . lost/hurt/angry/frustrated/devastated/other words that mean angry.

Why aren’t you fighting for me and my people? Why aren’t you in the streets, and talking to your family members about what is going on in the news? How could you even let the words come out of your mouth, “Well if he wouldn’t have . . . “

Strangers were livid about the collective rage coming from Black Millennials. They were livid that we were standing up for ourselves and being vocal about injustice. I’d never seen such ugly comments on internet articles. The wave of unarmed children, women, and men, killed by police officers, that followed Mike Brown’s murder has done nothing to illicit rage in some my White Counterparts.

They keep killing my people! Even children in the park aren’t safe! My skin color puts me in immediate danger every hour of every day! I’m afraid when I drive at night to get pulled over by a cop.  Help Me! Speak Up for Me! Can’t you see my pain! HELP ME!

It was at this point I realized the real issue.  The ROOT of Racism, is WHITE. PRIVILEGE. {a term for societal privileges that benefit people identified as white in Western countries, beyond what is commonly experienced by non-white people under the same social, political, or economic circumstances.}

Add to that a sense of Entitlement, and we are all pretty much fucked.  Because YOU don’t want the status quo to change.  You are safe, comfortable, and happy with the way YOU are treated in the world we currently live in.  In your bubble, nothing is wrong.  Because you don’t worry about your children when they go out to play, why should you notice/protest that I have to have that worry?

Enter All Consuming Rage.

I am WORTH your concern.  How DARE you live a life of blissful ignorance, with my people’s blood running in the street?!?!?!?! My Life Matters.

BLACK. LIVES. MATTER.

That’s not a fucking Slogan. It’s a truth. And the fact that your response is, “All Lives Matter,” is not only insulting, but Bullshit.  The correct phrase should be, “All Lives that Mimic My Own Matter.”

I’ve started to re-evaluate everything I ever knew about the people around me.  I’ve started to look at certain situations, and ask new questions. I find myself assuming motivations, before I start a conversation to actually understand motivations.

Then I’m pissed again, because that’s what YOU do. It’s why I’m angry in the first place. The difference between me and YOU, I catch myself.

I do the FUCKING WORK. I take the next step, acknowledge my hurt/pain/fear and it’s affect on the situation, and try to make sure I’ve done everything to understand your point of view and/or educate you.

I’m tired. I’m  FUCKING Exhausted.

Because I have to do my work, your work, and extra work.  I’m So Damn Tired. Why won’t you do the work? Why won’t you talk to the people in your life that refuse to listen to me? Help Me Please!!! I’m so tried of carrying this burden on my own.

{I went to the doctor because I was feeling off last week.  My blood pressure was 200/148. That’s no hyperbole. This is why I’m tired. It’s a miracle I haven’t stroked out yet.}

And this has caused my current mindset to be, “If you aren’t For Us, you’re Against Us.”

I have the right to be angry.  The fact that I haven’t started fighting people in the street is a testament to my fairly decent upbringing, and my need to keep my job. Stop telling me why I should turn the other cheek.  Stop telling me it’s going to get better, especially if you aren’t actively working to make it better.

I’m done trying to be nice, and quiet, and calm.  I’m Fucking Angry.

Do something, or shut-up. Point. Blank. Period.

 

I Can’t Drink You Away….

This blog MIGHT be all over the place (kinda like my emotions right now) but I promise there is a central theme.

*******Avengers: Infinity War Spoilers********

We all said, nothing can ever be better than Black Panther. I THINK we were wrong. This movie is just….. So first off, FUCK THANOS. His entire existence just ruined my life. For a myriad of reasons. The last 20 mins of that movie are 1000000000 times worse than the Red Wedding episode of GOT.

But what has me awake at 4:30am like I don’t have shit to do in 3 hours, is the relationship between Thanos & Gamora.

He stole her, after he destroyed half of her planet’s inhabitants. He killed her mother, and told her it had to happen that way. He then trained her to be a deadly assassin who traveled the world killing for him. Because he’s an ASSHOLE.

Even though Gamora swore she hated him, when she *thought* she had actually killed him it tore her apart. Like broke her all the way down. Because even after all the abuse, and hate, and self-loathing, that was her FATHER. Every girl just wants a Daddy.

My life is in chaos right now. I reached out to my father, who has more than enough money to help me deal with this situation. It’s an unexpected life altering event, right as I took 2 months (unpaid) FMLA off to help my mom.

I knew he was going to say no. I knew it in my soul. I told my mom he was going to say no. He did. I wasn’t even shocked. I had already been working on another solution to the problem. He has never helped me out in a crisis. He has actually caused the last 2. And yet…..I asked. At 36, I still held an impossibly small piece of hope he would come through for me.

Because that’s what parents are supposed to fucking do – Help their children in times of need. That’s what our relationship was until I was around 12. The spoiled girl who was pampered and NEVER told no until she started gaining weight……she didn’t understand why the relationship just changed. It went from fun to weight control and walking 4 miles a day in the Arizona heat. I didn’t handle the transition well, because I wasn’t prepared for it.

My Hero. That’s who and what I used to think my father was. You couldn’t tell me shit bad about him. And due to his “strict religious and moral beliefs,” he would of course never lie to me or hurt me. Because that’s what the Bible says. But not the Good Reverend. That nigga worked 50 years to push his kids out the house at 18, and tell them to fend for themselves. Because that’s HIS moral obligation. Now, where this supposed code came from, I don’t know.

It took me way too long to understand this code of ethics even existed. [Partially due to my mother’s parenting style, because she’s the best mom ever] I was used to having a need, telling my primary parent at the moment, and getting what I needed. Some people called it spoiled…not sure why. Some part of me still felt, even after all the times he had disappointed me – if I can just explain why it’s so urgent that I need his help, he won’t say no then. I keep banging my head up against this emotional wall.

Always leaving a door open, or a window slightly cracked hoping he will be different this time. Because I never felt more loved and appreciated than when I used to go visit my father in Tucson and Pittsburgh. I still crave that….feeling. I write about wanting that all the time. Thanks to therapy, I know the root of that. But this blog isn’t REALLY about my daddy issues.

I know, insanity. The kid inside of me always feels so less than when dealing with him, because I’m still trying to get him to:

  • Acknowledge that parenthood doesn’t end when your children reach 18.
  • HELP ME GOT DAMMIT

Back briefly to Avengers.

In order for Thanos to reach one of his final goals, he LITERALLY threw Gamora over a cliff, and killed her. I started crying right then. Because GOTDAMN! Gamora’s face as she was falling, throwing out her hands and hoping by some miracle he would save her in the last minutes…….

It was like seeing myself on screen. (This conclusion is why I’m still awake right now) Every time I call my father specifically for his help, I’m hanging off the cliff holding on for dear life. He reaches down, and lifts each finger off, while telling me something about budgeting for unexpected events.

That’s how I see my dad. I paid the mortgage on a house that was in his name for 4 years, for him to tell me if I didn’t let my DEADBEAT ASS SISTER move in (and pay no rent or contribute to the household….did I mention shes is 22 years older than me) he would sell the house, and I would be homeless. This was of course about a WEEK after I had a Grand Mal Seizure at the gym and dislocated my shoulder. And my mom was already staying there to help me recover FROM A FUCKING SEIZURE.

Did Thanos love Gamora, yes? But he – and by extension his agenda – was still more important to himself than his child. I just don’t understand how that is. I try really hard to look at everything from both sides. But my dad….

Seriously tho, Fuck that Nigga Thanos.

I just…. I can’t wait for the day when I can not have “daddy issues” flare ups. This shit is worse than herpes. I might be done tho…because exhausted. Also, I might have already said too much. I had to edit like 4 times before I could post this. Because feelings.

Fuck Thanos So Much

Dangerously In Love….. a Forever #Mood

Soundtrack to this Blog:

It seemingly takes very little for me to fall for someone.

The Convict: His lightskinnedness (It was the 90’s! JUDGE👏🏾ME👏🏾NOT👏🏾

TBTLNY: His voice/accent

MM: Our friendship

TOTGA: His hood ass mentality

Bono: Conversation

The Unicorn: Conversation/His accent.

I share this NOT to call people out, but to say it’s never something exceptionally deep at first. It’s usually simple conversation or likemindedness. (Is that a word?) But after I sat on my best friends couch stressed as all the hells this weekend, I realized I’ve never had an issue falling for people. I have an issue letting them go.

If I’ve looked at you as a potential mate, if ive seen that vision in my mind’s eye, I will hold on for much longer than I probably should. To my own detriment, in most instances.

The Convict was my first real crush. The first time my lady parts reacted to a dude. I was 12, he was 17, and I was IN LOVE. Fast forward to 2010, I sho nuff satisfied THAT curiosity. Even though I knew it wasn’t a good look for me.

I was in love with TBTLNY for like 10 years. We ‘met’ June of 2000 and I was attached until August of 2010, when he acted a complete ass and I gave up. Only for me to almost IMMEDIATELY fall for MM (formerly known as HotNeighborGuy).

MM was 2010…he broke my heart. Like DEVASTATED me, and I didn’t know if I was ever going to be okay. But when he showed back up 6 months later….I just took my happy ass right on back. Only for it to fall apart 6 months later. To the point that I left Tucson. And yet……I’m 36.87% sure if he called me today, I’d answer. And smile. (Becuz I’m an idiot.)

TOTGA were college…….and yet. If ever they would like to roll on back in my life…I’d probably let them. (Yes, there are 2 of them)

This brings me to my point. I’m FIERCELY loyal, even to people who’ve hurt me on multiple occasions. For most of my life, I’ve just accepted that. That’s who I am, I’m always there. Part of it has been attributable to my zodiac sign…the other I’ve just assumed was Daddy Issues. I’ve just…….lived with this character flaw.

Because that’s what it is, a flaw. I can cut off a female in a heartbeat if she does anything that violates my personal code of ethics. I’ve cut off family members, CLOSE family members when I felt they’ve violated my trust. I stopped talking to my mom for like a month when I started college, just because we got on each others nerves on the drive up.

But I always seem to leave a window open and a light in that window for the men in my life that mattered. There is always a part of me who knows I’m going to let them back in, if they want to. This knowledge makes me feel weak. Because I’m a strong independent black woman, so I shouldn’t have these issues at all. But I do…and some of those listed above have been let back in.

TBTLNY and I….he’s still around. We figured everything out, and he’s still one of my best friends. I’ve known him half my life. We’ve matured together, laughed together, cried together, and everything in between. But that wasn’t because I stayed….its because we both wanted to do the work to fix everything.

MM changed my life, and I miss the intimacy of our relationship. I think I was so open and free with him because I KNEW we weren’t going to end up together. I risked my heart, 3 times, because I wanted to experience him. I don’t regret it, even though most of my friends would probably say I should.

Bono is so much of everything! Straightforward, no guess work, just fun. Weekly dining experiences and amazing conversation. No want/need to label anything or answer to each other for what we do outside of the time we spend together. It’s basically the best relationship ever…..that’s NOT a relationship!

Both TOTGA……yup they are still around, yay #Friendship.

Usually I try to give people advice about how I’ve coped and the steps I had to take to get there. I can’t give that advice today. Cuz ain’t shit changed. I’m still making dumb ass decisions about dudes. Because when I love, I Love HARD.

Because Stubborn & Aquarian Daddy Issues.

Dear Depression……Thanks

I need to take a few minutes to talk about one of the benefits of MY depression. I talk all the time, about how Depression has seemingly taken over my adulthood. It makes things HARDER to accomplish. In order to be fair, I must now share the good sides of Depression. So without further ado, I present…..Thanks Depression!

I’ve lost 30lbs since July of last year. I went from 363.2 to today’s current weight of 334.8lbs. I can write those weights with pride, as it’s the smallest I’ve ever been (since I started actually weighing myself). The only time in my life I lost weight like this, was when I was working at the Tucson JCC. I was working out 5 days a week (for at least 40 mins), and eating kosher.

Which is why I have to say, Thank You Depression!

Because I just stopped eating food. That’s how I’m losing this weight. I have no appetite, at all. I forget to eat during the day, and I barely eat at home. When I do eat, the portions are so small it’s like being on a diet. 9 times out of 10, I always end up feeding the rest to my dog.

I’ve been dealing with my mom’s health issues and living 2309 miles away, so food intake has been the least of my worries.

People come up to me, and ask my diet plan. Usually, I lie. Cuz it’s kind of weird to be like, “Worry about your mom on an hourly basis! The pounds will just melt away!” I feel like, that wouldn’t go over that well.

FitBit reminded me today, I’m just 9lbs away from the initial goal I set for myself 3 years ago. I got a lil bit happy, knowing that goal is on the horizon. Then, I got sad again. Because I know I’ll make that goal. And it’s not because I’m doing it on purpose. It’s because I’m so stressed out about other things in life, I won’t be focused enough to try to stay at this weight. Depression is still there, I haven’t figured out how to get rid of it…..yet.

I sometimes miss when food was my happy place. I miss being able to eat my feelings. Because when you can just eat them, you don’t have to process them. You don’t have to sit with them, rolling around in your head all fucking day.

When you can eat your feelings, you also end up weighing 378lbs at 30. So clearly that wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism. But as I looking at the numbers getting smaller and smaller on the scale, my new fear is that once I’m back in Michigan, the weight just comes back.

So I’m planning already, how to keep this going. Joining Lifetime Fitness again, and cooking healthy food. Actually going for walks on the trail behind my mom’s house. Maybe I can get to my ultimate weight Goal, size 18 on the bottom, and a 14/16 on Top. The numbers never mattered to me, the way my clothes fit did. And 2 weeks ago, I bought a pair of size 24 jeans….and they are already too big now.

Thank You Depression, for being a catalyst to a lifestyle change I needed. I wasn’t gonna do it myself, so I appreciate the help 😁.

2 Day Free Write: I miss the Old Kanye

After I cried for an hour at work, I started making a plan. . . .

This is a Free Write, I’m just jotting down thoughts, because the Woman I realized is my mentor, told me to.  And sometimes I obey commands . . . but only sometimes.

  1. My best friend lost her mom at the end of last year.  She had to see her mother become this thing she wasn’t ready for.  She had to see her mother in pain and hurting, because cancer was ravaging her body.  At about the same time, my mother was going through Chemo for Cancer.  And I was in Arizona.  2096 miles away from her.  I have the greatest Best Friends, and my OTHER Best Friend stepped up and kept my mom together.  She drove her to appointments, helped run errands, basically everything.  I don’t know what I would be, without her.  I’m so grateful for what she’s done for my mother.  But it’s getting to me today.  Being away from her, is getting to me.  I’ve been in Arizona for 9 years, and this is the 2nd time I’m seriously considering leaving.  Because THAT’S MY MOTHER. And when I was sick, she dropped everything and came here for me.  I should have done the same for her.  I know all the practical reasons why I didn’t, but I should have.  I think, I feel guilty that I didn’t come home.  I know most of my family judges me because of it.  I had already assumed it, but it was confirmed over the holidays.  I just . . . hate having to acknowledge that my mother is going to die.  I can’t even IMAGINE my life without her in it.  I’ve been her life, since I was born.  I have so many hopes and dreams for my mother.  I want her to live a carefree life, at least 5 years.  So i can see my mother without the struggle.  Cuz it’s been a struggle much more often than it’s not.  My mother DESERVES better life.  I want to give that to her.  Because i couldn’t thank her enough for everything she’s done for me.  IF i wrote it a million times a day, it wouldn’t be enough. I’m almost at the point where I want to beg God, Please Please Please let me have this option.  And that’s selfish.  I understand that.  Everything has a reason, everything happens for a reason.  But Please Please Please God, help me help my mom to live her best life.  Please.
  2. I think I’ve met the person who is going to be my male companion for the rest of my life. Or rather, one of them.  That’s weird.  But he’s . . . . stable. That’s all I’m gonna say about that.  Because . . . . NO.
  3. Drugs are amazing.  LEGAL Drugs are amazing.  They make life easier to handle.  Everything in moderation tho.  I’m low-key worried about my . . . dependence on sleep helpers.  Like, am I going to live the rest of my life unable to sleep without some type of medicinal help?
  4. BIG K.R.I.T. is Life.  If you don’t know . . . now you do.
  5. Have this innate fear of talking about my personal life on this blog and/or social media now.  I feel like there were, in the past, people I thought were friends who saw me happy and wished unhappiness on me.  I know this may slightly appear to be irrational, but it is what the FUCK it is.  I’ve felt like there was someone in my life, who pretended to be my friend, but hated me.  I think they had access to my personal life, and details about it, then very specifically plotted against me.  And because I was just walking around clueless, I didn’t protect myself like I should have.  I didn’t know I needed to pray about people trying to cause me harm.
  6. I miss #TheHim. I miss how he felt, and smelled, and looked at me.  I know I shouldn’t, and my pride won’t let me contact him.  But I miss him sofa king much lately.
  7. I’ve self diagnosed myself as being Bi-Polar with symptoms of Hypomania. This is because of an article I read on Facebook. I’m probably right about this.  Google it, and see if it doesn’t describe me almost perfectly.
  8. I just saw the FINEST black man at the Club House Gym.  Guess who’s going to start working out here. New stalkee’s always bring me joy.
  9. I’m not a stalker . . . . anymore.  I miss that side of me.
  10. IRRRRRRRRRRRNADIMM. INAOTNE. IAEAVFT, ATHTTAFMBASPHHEAUX . . . . I’ll never forgive that bitch.
  11. I miss college, or rather the music of college.  If I had known that I would regret not making up diss trolls to every song that plays these days, I would have probably been in better shape back then.
  12. People keep calling me skinny.  It’s annoying. (This is in response to my recent weight loss.  I’m smaller, but I ain’t nowhere NEAR skinny and never will be.)
  13. This took me 2 days to write, cuz I got distracted by a guy at Starbucks.  I mean, he was there to see me . . . so there is that.
  14. Edibles are AMAZING.  Anyone who tells you different is a Lying Ass Liar.
  15. Thanx for reading!

 

I Can’t be Racist . . . I have White Friends!

It’s important to tell anyone reading this, I didn’t actually understand that I was Black, until I was about 7.  I never looked in the mirror, and some of my best friends in Elementary school were white.  I assumed I looked like them.  Call it childish innocence.  It wasn’t until my lil’ redheaded friend’s father wouldn’t let me sleep over their house, and my mom had to explain to me why.  I don’t remember exactly how I felt, but as I remember the event some 30 years later, I’m sure it made an impact.

Thats Racist

In high school, my group of friends was like the United Colors of Benetton.  We took our “Buddy Pictures” in plaid flannel of all colors.  There was a biracial girl, 2 white girls, a Filipino girl, and me. Imagine my surprise when one of my white friend’s dad was angry that she was friends with me.  I had talked to this man on the phone almost every day for a year.  He KNEW me, I thought.  That’s when I found out her dad was racist.

The majority of my life, I’ve befriended people based solely on merit. If you can hold a conversation, or we have something in common, or we work together, I’ll talk to you.  I’ve never really looked at race as a determining factor in my relationships with people.  I don’t mean, “I don’t see color,” I mean color didn’t determine your worth in my life.

Then Travyon Martin was killed.

All of a sudden, people I’d been friends with all my life – some people I considered FAMILY – were saying the most horrifically racist things about this CHILD who was killed by an overzealous asshole, who was probably racist.

“I mean, maybe he did attack that guy!”

“Why was he looking suspicious in a neighborhood he didn’t belong in?”

“I have to hear both sides . . “

Snape Flippinf Tables.gif

 

For the first time in my life, I realized that my existence as a Black Woman was in no way separate from my position/worth in some of the relationships in my life. I was the Black friend,  not the black friend.  I was being regarded as “hostile,” and “argumentative” for expressing an opinion.

Then, Mike Brown was Killed.

It was at this point, I started to lose friends in droves.  Before it had been, “Let’s just agree to disagree,” and precarious alliances were formed.  As long as I didn’t express my opinions, or acknowledge the unfairness of the USA, it was all fine.  But I couldn’t be quiet. I had to express myself, the pain was too great. First it was unfollowing people on FB, then I was being cussed out in the comments of my own posts, then it was people blocking me.

I’d never specifically expressed myself as a Black Woman around my friends.  I shied away from all that, because I understood it wasn’t worth the fight.  “Just shut up MJ, they won’t get it.”  Suddenly, I was trying to MAKE people understand.  I tried to have serious dialogues with people about race in America, and how it affects everyone in some shape or form.

Then, #BlackBoyJoy happened.

There was a video of a little Black boy dancing to some song, I honestly don’t remember what song.  I shared it on my FB page, with a comment like, “I love to see a Little Black Boy having fun!” There were probably some heart eye emojis, because HELLO! Lil Black Boys dancing is ADORABLE.

LILBOyDancing

The step sister of my best friend – my LONGEST friendship (since 5th grade Latchkey), my #WhiteBoyBestFriend – commented on the status something to the effect of, “All children having fun is beautiful, why just black boys?”

I can admit now, she caught me on an off day.  Any other day, I would have probably just blocked her.  But I had TIME that day. I didn’t call her out on my status, I sent her a FB message.  I’ve known her since she was 12 years old, and her mom married my best friend’s dad. I was trying very hard to maintain this relationship.  Maybe she didn’t understand that she was #AllLivesMattering my post.

I’d felt some time of way about her for years.  She, IMO, was the Epitome of what was wrong with America.  She was white, and entitled, and felt that everything should always go her way.  She had never had to be hungry, or experience life failures (to my knowledge), or fear for her life when she got pulled over by a cop.  She lived with her parents, was over 25 and had NO SHAME in that.  She did the absolute bare minimum on an hourly basis, and somehow, she felt she had the right to tell ME, that #AllLivesMatter.

I was tired of her, and her White Privilege.  Her Whiteness was offensive to me that day. I tried yall, I really did.

Seriously, my pride in beautiful black children is my own…allow me to have it without trying to make the focus about you and ur feelings

Calm your bitch down dude. I asked a genuine question. There is absolutely no need to jump down my throat. You know, I used to believe you were a tolerant and understanding person, but I have to say that I no longer see that in you. I see a very angry person and that saddens me. I don’t know what happened but I feel sorry for you.

Note: My response . . . and hers. I started off doing so well, right?!?!? Like I didn’t call her out her name, or ANYTHING. Because, growth.  But after her response tho . . . I went the FUCK OFF.

So since you already pity me [I’ll] tell you this. You live in a world that doesn’t exist. You are the EPITOME of White Privilege and Frailty. If you have paid attention to ANYTHING I’ve posted in [the] last 3 years, you would know “what’s wrong with me.” You are vain, and selfish, and I pity what your life is going to become.

Keep talking bitch

Of course I had to call my best friend, and tell him what had happened.  I screenshot the convo, and told him I understood if he wanted to fall back on our friendship for a while.  Thankfully, he said, “That’s between you two.  I’m not in it.” It was at that moment when I had to remind myself – They aren’t all like that.

Some Facts which, at this point, must be Stated:

  • Whiteness is a threat to most people of color. Anytime I, in my Blackness, challenge the status quo (Whiteness), I am attacked in various ways and on multiple levels.
  • White Women, and their fragility is harmful to the voices of People of Color.  I’m tired of quieting my voice so that white tears can be heard.
  • I Don’t Hate White People. I hate White Privilege.

All this has been written to say: I’ve been entirely too quiet about this feeling of . . . unease I have regarding our current  society.  My fear/anger is turning me into a person who pushes buttons on purpose.  I wear/purchase shirts just to piss off the people I see.  I wear my hair in an Afro to offend the eyes of people who dislike – or are uncomfortable with – Blackness. I put color in my hair because I know people think it’s “Ghetto,” not creative, because I’m Black.

There are a myriad of White people in my life on a daily basis.  I have White friends on FB, Instagram, and at work.  Lately, I’ve had to put disclaimers on my status’ and posts, and what I say in group settings.  Sometimes I don’t even speak at all.  Because of the impact it could have on my job, my life, my relationships is too great. {Which is a PROBLEM}

The . . . silencing of my voice is getting to me.  It’s making me fall into depressive states on a regular basis.  When I trace back the origins of all my waves of depression in 2017, it was an instance when I silenced myself in some way.

Tupac Shhhhh

I’m not Racist . . . . I’m Black. This shit is HARD.

Before I’m a woman, before I’m a Social Worker, before I’m a Friend, before I’m a Daughter, I’m Black.  The burden of that . . the weight of that in today’s society is slowly sucking the Joy out of me.  It’s like you have a 1,000,000LB weight on your back, and every white person can’t see it.  Better yet, they keep saying to you, “Girl, it’s just 3 flights of stairs.  You can do it, because I did!” It’s making me bitter. It makes me think snide ass comments about Whiteness, then feel bad for thinking it.

To ME: My Blackness is beautiful.  My skin is damn near flawless, I haven’t aged since I was 12 (I have the pics to prove it.) My hair is amazing.  I can do 1000 things with my natural hair, and it will be just as beautiful. My curves are sexy – these hips can hurt you if I want them to, or they can change your life. The original woman probably looked just like me.

To Society: My Blackness makes me less than. My Blackness is ugly, and the exact opposite of Beauty. My hair is ugly, dirty, and nappy.  My curves are unhealthy and I don’t deserve to sit comfortably in any chair, ever.  People who looked like me, were shaped like me, where kept in museums and displayed at circuses. {Look up Venus Hottentot}

Adulthood for me, is finally understanding the real meaning of the following poem:

Mother to Son

BY LANGSTON HUGHES

Well, son, I’ll tell you:

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

It’s had tacks in it,

And splinters,

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor—

Bare.

But all the time

I’se been a-climbin’ on,

And reachin’ landin’s,

And turnin’ corners,

And sometimes goin’ in the dark

Where there ain’t been no light.

So boy, don’t you turn back.

Don’t you set down on the steps

’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.

Don’t you fall now—

For I’se still goin’, honey,

I’se still climbin’,

And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

This is Blackness in 2018.  This is Me.

Can You Hear Me? Do You See Me?