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In Black & White
I recently read the post of a white woman who wrote into Sister 2 Sister magazine. She was expressing frustration at black women and the energy she gets from them at her being with a black man. The problem is, instead of trying to really understand where black women and the 'attitude' she gets from them is coming from, she wrote from a place of entitlement, judgment, and criticism at people she couldn't begin to understand. If her approach had been different, she may actually have come away with clarity and understanding. In her letter she challenged black men to basically back her up in saying that white women are the coveted desire of every black man and why they should choose white over black. The feedback she received was far from what she was looking for.
It started me to thinking. Seriously thinking. Some years ago I would have been among the black women rolling my eyes and wagging my tongue at her and the black man who was with her. While I would marvel at the beauty of the children those mixed raced unions would produce, I would simultaneously hate the heritage that resulted in those children. Each observation of them a slap in the face to me - a blatant rejection that said to me that I was not good enough. Not good enough to date. Not good enough to marry. Not good enough to have a child with. Not good enough to stay with and raise little black children.
I resented the privileged lifestyles I saw white women living. That in their homes there were usually two parents, while in our households our women struggled to make ends meet, while our men shirked their responsibilities and ran off. I resented the entitlement that they wore that said they DESERVED only the best. I resented that they automatically assumed they should have the best jobs, the best homes, the most money, the best education, the most say, the smartest children, etc. and that anyone with the slightest hint of melanin in their skin was somehow genetically predisposed to be inferior to them. And when they did decide they wanted our men, they chose the brightest and most brilliant gems and then flaunted in the faces of black women that we were somehow not good enough. That again, their entitlement of 'I can have anything and anyone I want' was thrown in our faces.
And I understand what black women felt. It wasn't just that the man saw someone he liked and just wanted her. Having chosen someone white was worn like a badge of honor, as if to say that they had somehow 'arrived' by being able to show up with a white woman on their arms. But it goes so much deeper than that - on every single front.
The black woman looks at this man, these men, who have made the choice to go that route and inside she thinks by not choosing a black woman, he is saying his mother is not good enough. She thinks about all of the sacrifices that have been made to take care of him, to cover, to protect him. And it feels like a slap in her face that after all of that, he would go a different route. She thinks about the history of our people and that of white people and doesn't see anything good in it. She remembers the black boys and men beaten and lynched for even looking in the direction of a white woman. She has seen the race card played repeatedly when conniving white girls can't have their way and how they cry rape after willfully having sex with black men, setting off another stream of repercussions. She feels the pain of generations of black children forced to grow up without their black fathers. She remembers how tired her mother was when she came home from cleaning the houses of the privileged whites and how no matter how much we may have amassed even in the face of the least educated whites, we were still seen as just another nigger. She feels the force of the anger of black men as they come home and beat their frustration and drink their frustration and drug their frustration remembering she was the one who caught it. She knows what it was like to lie to her friends, coworkers, employers and family about the bruises on her body inflicted on her by him. But she knew that she needed to protect him, for what awaited him was far worse than what she felt she endured by him.
So she held her head up a little higher and straightened her shoulders, determined to make her family work. She loves him with everything that is in her. She understands him...even when it felt like he couldn't understand her. She believes in him when the world tells him he is nothing and reminds him that he is just another nigger. To her, he is a king. Whether working in a factory, flipping burgers, selling drugs, collecting rubbish, dribbling basketballs or running corporations, he has always been a king in her eyes. And so are her sons.
Is she tired? Yes, you bet she is. She is tired of trying to hold it all together. She is tired of being told she is male bashing on the few occasions when she risks telling her real story of neglect and abuse and lack. She is tired of being sexualized by family members and on videos and by men passing by on the street. She is tired of working her fingers to the bone, knowing she is not making as much as her counterparts. She is tired of the drugs and violence and alcoholism and hopelessness she sees all around her. She is tired of being told she doesn't matter, that she has no voice, and that she is not important. She is tired of being told that black women don't get depressed, that we have to be strong. She is tired of the struggle and everything that she endures on a daily basis, yes, it is a slap in her face when he crosses over and goes white. She knows that her life is affected by the choices he makes and it makes her angry.
Are black women disproportionately more overweight than their white counterparts? Yes, we are. We have been known to eat our way through the pain. Sometimes it is the only thing that feels good in our lives. Many of the women we see feel stuck and haven't figured out how to get out of it. Frustrated, tired, depressed. Yes. I said it. Depressed which is described as anger turned inwards. If she is not allowed to be angry at anyone else yet the anger exists, where does it go? She turns it on herself. Do we need better coping mechanisms? Certainly we do. But people are just doing the best that they can at any given time. It just is what it is, until it becomes something else.
The issues of race go so deep. While it's about what's black and white, it is so much more than just what's black and white. Culturally, no one truly knows and understands the history, the struggle, the decisions of a people if they have no real revelation of what the lives of those people may have been like. For as much as we can sit around and judge and feel as if we have the answers to everything from our soapbox, the truth is, unless we have spent a moment walking in someone else's shoes, we really don't know what it's like to be them. And black women look and shake their heads, knowing that while white women showcase their trophy children, we know the world will still see those children as black...despite their mixed race heritage. And we are not asking that you deny the white part of them, we are asking that you embrace the black part of them and EVERYTHING that goes along with it, and not just brush it under the rug as people being 'too sensitive.' Some things white people have never had to to experience and so it becomes difficult for them to understand. It is that lack of understanding that infuriates black women and makes them so bitter.
We know that every race, every culture has their 'stuff,' and sometimes it becomes too much to deal with. And a person may choose to be open enough to allow happiness to come in despite what it's face may look like. Sometimes we just get tired of dealing with the stuff in our own back yards and we yearn for what might be considered greener pastures elsewhere. Life is too short to spend it being unhappy. While we go in search of happiness in whatever form it comes in, we can fully embrace it, without denying who or what we are or without denying our backgrounds. And if we each take the time to realize that each people group has their own struggles, their own stories, if we keep the lines of communication and compassion open, we can learn from each other. And we'd also see that we don't have to be enemies.
Changing lives one word at a time...Tumika Patrice Cain
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Tumika Patrice Cain is an award-winning author, media personality,
and motivational speaker. Through her imprint, Inkscriptions Publishing &
Media Group, she provides high quality, affordable, mentor-based publishing
services to indie authors, as well as inspired, empowering messages of hope and
abundance through her media outlets. Her works can be found in many
publications, including Fresh Lifestyle Magazine. To learn more about Tumika,
her books, and her services visit the following websites. http://www.TumikaPatrice.com
and http://www.InkscriptionsPMG.com
