It's A Great Day To Be BLACK
Stepping into Your Blackness of Womanhood
There is no need for me to be "around the bush" with this, and really that isn't my style anyways, so here we go and WELCOME FRIENDS!
From the time I was a child, able to attend school and what not, I felt discrimination. I was raised in Massachusetts, Plymouth, Cape Cod, to be exact. There is not much I remember about those days except for the fact that everything and everyone was WHITE. White people, white things, white school systems, white white white. Naturally, I picked up on those things. And then we moved to TEXAS, another white place, but way more mixed than up north. That is when I started discovering that I was black, I was a mixed black, I talked different, I acted different, I was different, and there was no changing that.
My family and I moved from Mass. when I was in the third grade. There were not many black kids in my elementary school, and naturally I hung with the whites, because that is what I was used too... I was highly bullied for that, and I was a huge tomboy, so I was also bullied for that. I remember one day at recess this little white brown-haired chick asked me why I wasn't playing with my own kind, she meant the black kids, and I didn't know how to answer that... I am also not sure what I said in response to that, I just remember that I wanted to play football too, and the only ones playing football were white boys and girls in my class, but their skin color never resonated with me I just wanted to play some football.
I was intensely bullied by the black girls throughout elementary school. I couldn't sit with them in class, I couldn't sit with them on the bus, I couldn't sit with them at lunch, in the library, I couldn't even stand near them in lines as we walked down the halls because they would bump me, pull my hair, or loudly whisper mean things about me to each other. I remember one girl, the clique leader, told me one day that she was prettier than me, that she was more light-skinned than me, and that I needed to shave my sideburns. The sideburns thing actually stuck with me until college. I would shave them just because she told me that and made fun of me for having them.
In high school I really started to see it, partially because it was blatantly obvious since there were only like 12 blacks in the entire school, but also because I was maturing. No matter what it seemed like in my pictures, or even in my memories, I never found a place in high school. The blacks always found a way to exclude me most of the time, the whites only talked to me when it was convenient for them, the asians and indians wanted nothing to do with me because they were raised to only hang with their own, which is racism, discrimination, and privilege, and as for the hispanics, there weren't many, but they were always neutral. They hung around us blacks and treated us all as human beings, but really wanted nothing to do with any other race, because they already knew what was up (let's be honest).
It was difficult for me in high school. I tried all four years to find my place. I was known by every group, every ethnicity, but I never really fit into anywhere. This constant confusion and exclusion I was going through led me to bounce around to having different "friends" constantly, never knowing who I was, what my true identity was, and that hurt. It wasn't until college really where I was just there. I wasn't trying to be liked. I wasn't trying to fit into any particular group or race, but I was still in search of my own identity. As a young black woman, who am I? What is my history? What is my story? Why do I always feel so alone? Why do people, that don't even know me, dislike me so much?
As I made my way through university, I was still so lost. I rushed and joined a sorority, why, I really don't know... I am grateful that I had a place to go to so I didn't feel so alone at times, but at the same, they did nothing for me, and most of the girls are shady af. But as I said, it was nice to not feel so alone, but I didn't even fit in with them, my "sisters" (more like step sisters).
I got into a relationship with a white guy, and that was ridiculous, it lasted 3 years and was pretty horrible all the way through. To date outside of my race wasn't the issue, it was having to accommodate to his word that was bs. His family was the typical southern family. Keep the mess and dysfunction inside the house and when they go out they are the perfect christian family. Yeah...NO. That was far from true. His mother has already picked out a girl for him, a white girl, blonde with blue eyes, and I was never going to fit in no matter how hard I tried. No matter how nice or proper I was. I was temporary, and that was definitely obvious once we were about to get engaged... He told his mom and she shut that down real quick, and then him and I finally had "the talk"... Y'all know, even if y'all want to sit and act like you don't know what "THE TALK" is. The "I'm black and you are (whatever race)" talk. He acted all flabbergasted that his mom said she would disown him and what not if he married me and brought home a black grand-baby, but I wasn't the least bit surprised, if anything I had been waiting for that moment. I may not say much, but I peep everything from the looks, the words that aren't said, the little comments under the breath, mhmm I see and hear it all. The perfect Christian family they were not... Once I explained things to him, he was in shock STILL, and then came back with the line that all white people love to use: "But we have black friends. I was named after a black guy who died from aids. My best friend growing up was a black girl" *shows me a picture of her*... You see y'all, this is straight bullshit and holds no weight whatsoever to black people. This is straight mess, and we ALL know it.
Lucky for me, and them, we all finally got away from each other after about 4 years, and of course it will always be me that damaged him, even though he is a psychopath and needs counseling, but that would stain their look in the church so that will never happen for him.
I then dated a black guy some years after him. I had already graduated, got a career in another state, and was pretty well established. However, my goodness, this man had issues as well. I mean pride central right here... I had always heard that black men were stubborn, stuck in their ways, prideful, but I don't believe stereotypes, but this one right here had me all kinds of messed up. He was manipulative, and then would be nice and blame everything on me. He would break down crying, say all this good stuff to me, and then the next day make me cry so that he felt better about himself, and then the games started... Needless to say, that relationship woke me the hell up!!!! I kicked him out of my house at 10:30pm and still do not give a single ritz cracker where he went, is, etc. He tried it though... He hit me up several times after we split and was still straight toxic and nonsense so that BLOCK button came in handy.
DEAL WITH YOUR DEMONS BECAUSE US WOMEN SHOULD NOT HAVE TO DEAL WITH YOUR ABUSE JUST BECAUSE YOU REFUSE TO HELP YOURSELVES
Anyways, it wasn't until about two years ago that I truly started to deal with the real me. It started with my HAIR! These medusa curls on my head that I was never taught to embrace. It was always, "tie your hair up", "your hair is too big", "Nia, are you really going to wear your hair like that", "Your hair is too kinky, I need to take you to someone that can do your hair"...
EMBRACE. EMBRACE. EMBRACE. YOU ARE THE BODY OF LIFE. YOU ARE UNTOUCHABLE. WE CREATE LIFE. WE COME FROM THE MOST HIGH GOD WHO BUILT US IN THIS SPECIAL KIND OF WAY. WE MUST LEARN TO STEP INTO OUR NATURAL GIVEN POWERS AND EMBRACE
Once I started to work with my curls, which was the most aggravating thing ever, I started to love myself. I went through so many hair products, so much time, and YouTube videos did not help me any. I went through self discovery on my own. Once I started to become comfortable with my medusa babies, I started doing research on my people, the black people. I started realizing that the history books lied to us in school, that ignorance is too real, that I was hated because of the color of my skin, I was feared and envied for my natural tan, voluminous hair, and voluptuous body structure, and then when I spoke and they saw that I was highly educated, that was another threat to their superior pride that they have created for themselves.
I have had gum put in my hair, my hair has been pulled, I have been called a nigger, I have had white women not come down the same aisles as me in grocery stores, I have been spit on, I have been asked about my real name countless times, they still butcher my full name even after I tell them what it is, I have had my hair cut while walking down a hallway in high school, rather than call me by my name they would refer to me as "mocha", "half and half like the coffee creamer", an "oreo", "whitewashed", "not like them"... BUT when it all came down to it, it was my hair that saved my life. I am black that is what I am. I am a black and asian woman. That is what and who I am. You look at me, and you will see black. If you see my parents, you will wonder if that is really my real mom. Yes, as far as I know, she is.
It is a great day to be black. It is a great day to have curly kinky textured hair. It is a great day to stop putting heat on your natural curly textured hair. It is a great day to EMBRACE your curls, your kinks, your textures. It is a great day to roll your eyes at the racists. It is a great day to wear your fro. It is a great day to BLOCK whoever is not pouring into your life in the most positive ways. It is a great day to become single and step into your womanhood. It is a great day to stop dealing with other peoples demons, and start working on your own. It is a great day to get into a solid foundational relationship with a man, or woman, who EMBRACES you, and everything that makes you, you. IT IS A GREAT DAY TO EMBRACE YOUR BLACK.