Part 2: No Stranger to Pain

I am no stranger to pain. I would venture to say many angry black women are on a first-name basis with pain. Maybe even women who are not so angry... that's the deal with pain... Pain is NOT monogamous. I am sure many of you reading this right now have your own Pain Tale to tell. We, angry black women, have common ground. I have had my heart broken into a million teeny tiny pieces - many times. How about you? At one time, I did not think that all those fragments could ever be put back together. My mother died when she was 56 years old.... pushing when she was tired of pushing... going when she just couldn't go anymore. I was even beginning to walk in those shoes. Working a job that I had come to hate... working 6 days a week sometimes 12 hours or more a day. Gaining weight... Hair falling out... and then I had the NERVE to get adult ACNE of all things. Hormones all in an uproar, for many reasons, but the primary reason is lack of sex... I took the purity challenge (I know... how old am I? LOL... it doesn't matter, it is never too late to become celibate again and listen, it is not such a bad decision considering all this down-low mess). Yes, I'm still angry. I have unnamed family members who think I am out of my mind. How in the world did I just up and quit my job like that? Did I not hear about this economy? Besides just quitting, I moved clear across the country... I got the heck outta dodge. Yeah, I'm angry! Mad at myself for not quitting sooner... that's just if you ask me... Leaving my City of Detroit job was the single best decision I ever made in my life. I quit for me! Working to the point of exhaustion... letting myself go... I really quit caring about ME... the ME in ME! What was I doing all that for anyway? A three bedroom house in the Burbs? A three bedroom house in the Burbs is NOT worth my premature death. I was so miserable. I didn't even know the depths of my misery until I quit. I had become so accustomed to being miserable, I just thought that was the way it was supposed to be. I was no stranger to pain... hell, it was par for the course considering my life. To my surprise, there was a WHOLE new world waiting for me. I bet I learned that from my mother's death. You don't have to keep pushing when you are plain tired of pushing. You don't have to keep going when you just can't 'go' anymore. What are you doing all that for anyway? I guess by the time I finish posting my Ink Spots, I'll be less angry...LOL you never know though. For now, I'll settle for being on a sir-name basis with pain... pain and I are not as familiar or as close as we once were... and I thank God for that, dear reader.

Angry Black Woman Monologue

You know? Maybe, I am a little angry. Maybe, I have a right to be a ‘little’ angry. I often see black women depicted as combative, unsupportive, overweight, and really undesired. I mean take one look at the NBA wives. Need I say more? How often do you hear of a white NFL or NBA player marrying a black woman? Has it happened? Please clue me in but I think the statistics are not favorable. Then, black men wonder why we are angry. When you think of high profile, successful, and powerful black women – Oprah and Condoleezza are at the top of the short list. Noticeably absent from their lives is traditional family – a husband, the two kids, and the proverbial white picket fence. I think it was an unintended message but a message all the same – the successful BLACK woman is successful at the expense of traditional family. I am a single, thirty-something, professional black woman… an aspiring writer… a desperate writer is more like it. I have felt a tad vilified by popular media. The media tells us that we are intimidating to black men. We are mouthy, not knowing quite when to keep quiet. We use the hammer on our men when all they really need IS encouragement. Funny how all the responsibility for making the relationship work has been relegated to the black woman. When the relationships we do have don’t work out, we are left asking the question, “What’s wrong with me?” We are often made to feel that the available pool of successful black men is really a puddle. I think the latest statistics suggest that for every man there are seven women vying for his affections. Don’t even mention the whole “down-low” mess… the black men who are secretly having sex with other men. It’s bad enough having to compete with seven other women for one man’s attention, but there may also be men in that mix. That's a scary thought and can you say NASTAY? Yuck, Yuck, Yuck LOL Yes, I am a little angry. We are out pacing our males in academia, earnings, and social standing. Hedoublehockeysticks yeah, I’m angry… just a little. Where is my knight-in-shiny-Armani? Can I really have it ALL? Successful career, family, and devoted husband? I’m having all these thoughts before I put keystroke to screen. Somehow some subliminal messages have found their way into my psyche. I have this ever intruding voice of self-doubt, saying I’m not funny enough, not pretty enough; there aren’t any good God-fearing men left. Maybe, I really can’t have it all. Maybe I need to redefine FOR MYSELF what ‘having-it-all’ means? For the last couple of years, I’ve been engrossed in this phenomenal and INTERNAL Angry Black Woman monologue. I think I probably have enough material for a one woman show. I play with the idea for names: Angry Black Woman Monologue or Angry Black Woman Chronicles? What should I say? Should I speak politically correct or should I speak the truth as I’ve come to know it? I’m busy writing and giving birth to this thing. YES! I have a voice for my anger. I sprinkle a little humor here and there. Maybe somebody will like my writing. Somebody, anybody. And, you know what happens? An amazing thing happens… Barack Obama gets elected president. My anger gets a portal… I get some vindication… or should I say validation? Enter stage left: Michelle Obama. She is beautiful, strong, classy, smart, prosperous, with two beautiful children, and a smart man… I especially like the last one: "... and a SMART MAN." Dare, I say it? Can we really have it ALL? Michelle Obama goes a long way to make a case for the angry woman in me! Shoot, she flat out gives me hope. I see 'ME' in the white house. I mean a sister of a darker hue, signature black woman curves, and essence. I do SEE ME! I SEE ME as deserving of LOVE and ALL the BEST that God has for me. I SEE me in the eyes of Michelle Obama... and I'm less Angry. The NBA and NFL stars need to catch a 'clue.' Amen.