#TruthTellingTuesdays: Why I,too, am an Angry Black Woman
Moved by a piece I read in the Huffington Post written by Dominique Matti, I would like to share my truth in various forms-- every Thursday.
I, too, am an Angry Black Woman!
Because when I was three, a white girl spat in my face during ballet class followed by the words-- "You don't belong here." Because some part of me believed her. Because when I corrected my language arts teacher, he gave me an F in conduct. Because the Holocaust was important to learn about, not the fact that my ancestors were Kings and Queens.
Because boys talked to me when they saw my long hair paired with Mocha skin tone while suggesting that my dark skinned sisters were 'ok' looking --they were black. Because growing up meant that good hair was not curly, thick or wavy...it was straight. Because from as far back as I can recall, I must have been lying about being so young, was being overdeveloped my fault?
Because my husband can not walk into a bank with his hood on without the tellers being afraid, only offering help when he gets on the premier customer line. Because every time he leaves the house, I worry he will fall at the hands of that one racist police officer in front of our children. Because I have to raise three sons to love their skin in a world that hates its color. Because overexposure to sensuality, sexuality, racism and colorism has tainted the way my children look at the world.
Because there is not a black person born in America that does not fall victim to a form of 'slave mentality' as their parents shed tears of blood because they fall short trying to survive the New Jim Crow.
Because adulting is hard. Because having children at twenty meant my life was over. Because uttering BlackLivesMatter makes me a racist. Because I am the majority fighting not to be treated like a minority. Because when I told people I was from Belize, no one knew where that was until celebrities started to 'babymoon' on our beaches.
Because I am not entitled to my anger. Because black men judge me for being angry, subconsciously angry themselves. Because I'm married and my 'sisters' feel it is okay to have sex with my husband, meanwhile, he is not Carmelo Anthony. Because at some point in my life, my self-worth was the same as theirs. Because I am not sure if any of us angry black women will get our shit together before destroying one another.
Because I am tired of being tired. Because I am still trapped in my thoughts. Because I will share my truth, others will share theirs but what will change?
