Black Girls be Articulating their Pain

Today I tweeted, “Someone I love is turning into someone I dont like and its breaking my heart.”  I didnt say anything else about it, just left it at that. But there is so much more to it.

There is a man that I love. Would lay my life down for without a second thought.  I’ve watched him grow and turn into this man that has so much promise and I would do anything to help him prosper.  And he is breaking my heart. And he doesnt even know it.  Because he hates himself and if he hates himself than it must mean that he hates me because he and me are one. Because he’s my brother.

I dont know when it happened or what caused it.  All I know is that somewhere along the way someone told him or he convinced himself that Black is not beautiful and the closer to whiteness the better.  He’s dating a lovely white girl and Im glad he’s found someone to love and that loves him in return is awesome but that doesnt replace his love for his own Black self.

I think what hurts me the most is all the unsaid things.  He only compliments white women on their looks, their hair.  He only calls little White children cute.  If we go somewhere and there are a lot of white people there, he immediately assumes it is nice and acts appropriately.  We waited for him to put the tree topper on the tree and he even complained that there wasnt a White angel!  So if White is right and beautiful doesnt that make this lil Black girl ugly and wrong?

I dont know what to do about it but it concerns me because even if he has children with a woman that is clear as glass, his children will still be Black and they will be treated as such.  I dont want him to propel his hate unto others.  Nor will I allow him to make me feel less than, no matter who he is.

Maybe its a stage and he will grow out of it. I really hope he matures and sees the error of his ways and finds that love that he so desperately needs. Until then I have to find a way to marry my disgust and my devotion, my love and my loathing.

 

Black Girls Be Afraid to Fall

Everyone wants to fly. And when you’re young you try. You flap your arms. You tie on bed sheets & towels to give yourself an extra push. You climb up to the highest peak you can find before someone older & wiser hopefully calls you back. You may even get a spanking. But it doesn’t matter. You still want to fly.

That is until you fall. It may be that first bad knee scrape off a bike from taking a corner too hard. It may be a trip & tumble in a crowded room. Or you may even get pushed, getting a mouthful of dirt. Whenever and however it happens doesn’t matter, except it does. Because in that moment most of us stop trying to fly. We decide that the pain & humiliation of the fall isn’t worth the freedom & the beauty of the flight.

That’s where I am. Aviator goggles on, bed sheet secured across my squared shoulders, arms outstretched and feet cemented to the ground. I’m stuck. I know I could fly, I should fly, hell I would fly if only I would leap. But the ground is so hard. And my heart is so fragile.

Or maybe this is Inception. Maybe I’m dreaming of a new flight when in reality I’m still laying at the bottom of an emotional ravine, too tired and too broken to do anything but dream.

I loved once. And this love was a first class, all expense paid trip to everywhere and nowhere. The kind of love that made grocery aisles exotic getaways and Wendy’s drive through five-star dining. This was “Cant get no better cuz it feels too right.” So I took it and I flew with it. I let it grow me and groom me into a groove. I fell asleep at the wheel as love took a nosedive into nothing. And just like that it was gone. Over. Maybe I didn’t learn my lesson because as soon as I was offered this Too Good to Be True love I took it. Maybe it didn’t hurt enough the first time. Or it hurt too good. Or I thought I was too good to fall again. But the truth is the flight was just that good that the fall was worth it. And it still is.

I want to fly again. I want to feel Love’s wind carry me, wrap me and deliver me to a soft, sure landing. But I’ve hit turbulence, been through a couple storms and I’m not sure my vessel can take the journey again. No. That’s a lie. I love the flight. The freedom and foolishness of it all. But it’s the fall that makes me appreciate it. It’s the fall that reminds me I’m still alive.