Strong Independent Black Woman has always been a title that I have hated. Equally so with Queen. Anything that means that I have to take on an excess of burden that I did not choose by design seemed unfair.
It made it seem like I relish this role as one who keeps it together which is laughable at best. I much preferred the idea of being known as a princes. Someone for whom looking pretty was the sole obligation. One who could flit their life and troubles away on the dais of daydreams. That is what I wanted.
Queens have too many decisions to make. Too much responsibility to bare, to many burdens to carry. Head up, back straight, never let them see you fall apart. I was actually given that advice once by an Aunt. My uncle had died and I was sitting in a chair crying my eyes out. My Aunt, carrying food to the kitchen, stopped- shook her head and said, "Nope, you don't fall apart in public. We fall apart at home. Fix your face and go help."
Another older wise friend, at yet another funeral where I was crying like a baby over the death of a second mother, took my outside and said much the same, "The end is bad and it's going to be worse. You can't let every little thing tear you apart. Fix your face. Let's go back inside."
Both of these women are black. Why is it that as Black women the idea of embracing emotions publicly is so offensive? Why is an unfixed face problematic? If I had to guess I would say it's been born of years of having to shut up and put up. To make do and make happen. Of being objectified and stereotyped while hated and vilified. You learn to be inoffensive and non-threatening. I guess there is nothing scarier than big emotions.
But I feel big. I feel all of my feelings with every fiber of my being. And I like it. I like the Red hot anger that actually colors my vision in a haze, and the deep blue sorrows that feel like they will drown me. I like the crushing anxiety that makes me want to curl into a gray fuzzy ball and the joy that makes me feel like I can taste the color yellow. I love the laughter that makes me feel like it will float me away like a hot pink helium balloon. I am comfortable with the rainbow of my emotions and the swiftness of which they come and go. I like feeling alive.
I have been doing this thing where I temper my temper to be a better person. I hate it. I am doing it because I moved to a place where the men act like girls and they have bigger feelings than I do. How TIRESOME!!! I am afraid I am going to create reverse dimples because of how often I have to bite my cheek to not say what I am thinking. Which is usually mostly- Shut the hell up and stop being a baby.
I am reminded that I have known some really strong men. The kind whose strength super ceded mine and therefore could stomach a thorough cussing out from a Black Woman. I mean, they're just words- Suck it up Buttercup.
The point is to fit in I find myself catering to Ego. Male ego, because they are so fragile here. Problematic because as much as I hate the title- I am no less a Boss and at this point this pussyfooting around is getting in my way. Men and their egos are getting my my way.
.... But who's fault is that? I am not married. Not tied to anyone or anything. If my path is cluttered it's my own fault for allowing the debris. Another thing Strong Women do- they own their worlds and don't allocate the blame to anyone else. I should have never checked who I am to make it comfortable for them. That's their wives job.
The storm clears. I smell the winds of change. They smell like a lifting of oppression. So yeah- move aside.
I'm coming through.
Permission not needed.
A
