I sat at mid-night scrolling through my LinkedIn media feed. I saw post of black women, African women achieving their dreams. The use of words in their post, “be positive, keep going, climb mountains, and it will all pay off. You will be successful.” I find it oddly mysterious with color of my skin still a huge debate that I am to find some positivity in humans, the system and religion. If the color of my skin, wearing my nature hair and enjoyment of my womanhood is not seen as positive, do I have to be positive? Do I have to rise above in moral behaviors masked through Christianity and religion and self-help new thought thinking religion to be this great person? Oh, do not go there, I am happy, all these dark-skinned women going beyond what has been expected of them, I am pointing out the obvious. How am I as a black woman expected to achieve, when my womanhood and skin color are challenged for a space in humanity? I do not sign up for the self-help, Christian word porn, new thought religion of “positive vibes”, or “God this or Jesus that” lingo. Please do not put that dear soul Jesus into the immoral behavior and actions of blatant racism towards black women. Leave all deity’s out of all racism. And if my skin color is not seen as beautiful, beauty to protect, then how am I to love? Love myself, love humanity, create and produce without the seed of anger knocking at my soul’s door? As humans we only protect what we view as pretty, beautiful and important. Again, why do I have to be this great person? This great black woman.
Zoom Gloom
I open my email to see an advertisement for a Zoom winetasting and cheese function. Winetasting via Zoom? I lost my marbles. Have we gotten so comfortable now, we accepting online invitations via zoom for winetasting? What happen to traveling to Napa Valley, drive, walk around to the different vineyards, wine taste, people watch and be a little drunk. I believe winetasting promotes shenanigan behavior which lead to the best told stories after. I miss those days of meeting with humans, or alone and people watching. Laughing at other intoxicate behaviors, couples, groups of friends behaving in other ways than they would sober. Now I am forced to do this via Zoom? Zoom? Really? How do I people watch via my computer? And where will I walk to? What if I do not like this vineyards wine? What happens then? Now they only way I’d sign up for this event if they offered to deliver the wine to my home, instead of the driving to the grocery store and purchasing the wine, and I open the bottle like a surprise. That would be a better option. But the incentive that I must do something other than grieve the mere fact I cannot wine taste in public is sad. Changing subjects. This entire Zoom gloom has changed the way I interact with the public as a single person. I had my days when I would drive a shopping mall or some extended outdoor strip mall that had a coffee shop, I would do my people watching. I never experienced a dull moment. 10 times out 10 a child was reprimanded by the female parent. I find it oddly hilarious seeing mothers lose their shit in public against a 3-year-old. Or, the couple that is publicly fighting, and they do not care who sees or listens. Oh, the occasional shoplifter who is not that smart, gets caught by security. Mall cops, I do miss them harassing people for walking in groups, then actually running to a real violent event in the mall. The fashions of people who frequent these shopping places. I shake my head at how people made the conscious decision to look so bad. Those same people enter a high-end eatery and I realize they are rich, and they can afford to look bad. I often come to solace as I see oddly arranged couple’s walking together at shopping malls. I may find someone who is truly for me. I see an array of short to tall couples, skinny to fat (I am not sure why fatphobia is a thing in America) old to young, rich to poor couples all getting along, walking around this metropolis of stores. I miss those days when that was my single date to myself. A nice cup of an overpriced beverage and people watching. I am now forced to zoom all my dates. I am that three-year-old having a tantrum, screaming on the ground, at the mall, embarrassing the hell out of my parent, America. Nobody shares with you while you are in a birthing room at some point you will have to manage walking away from your child. I say you, but maybe as a parent you are one of the fortunate people whom the relation between parent and child are harmonious. Mine is not. I am faced, smacked down, beat up, that my child has chosen another path than I chose for him. I must manage my emotions and not allow my hurt to bleed into resentment, fear, hate and anger, at least not towards him. After 18 is the hardest time to raise a child. They are no longer under your control, the mold and shapeshifting you performed is over and now, waiting is in the gloom. As I write this, I am faced with, I am pushed out of my son’s life and into “just a mother” zone. An end zone I will accept and do not like. I feel I am losing a part of me unwillingly, involuntarily to life. As I sit and inhale, exhale deep breathes of loneliness and false hopes, I pray I find coping mechanisms to manage my pain of loosing my child in the anger times. Anger times are the times when your child is in their exploration time and is anger with the mere sight of you.
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Karen BaileyI am a mother. I am a woman and black. I enjoy writing, creating new content and ideas. I am a couch detective, love crimes shows and I love Downton Abbey. ArchivesCategories |