Dear Black Woman

Dear Black Woman,

I am not your enemy, I am not your friend, I am not your oppressor, I am not the hurt that other people gave you to heal. I am your soul sister. I appear when my time is needed, I am the person you see everyday maybe passing by. I hurt like you, I feel like you, I breath like you, I live each day just like you. I may not be the everyday American woman, but I am damn, sholl a woman. I manage me and I love me. I am in no control of any other person only just me.

How society views me that isn’t my place to define how society should see me because that’s their perspective. I don’t care how you dress, how much money you make, the car you drive, the men you sleep with, or what you do when your alone. Because I am just passing by. See you may think this is me writing to you but it’s not I’m every woman who passes you by in the street, who fixes your food, who combs you’re your hair, who teaches your kids, the manager at your job, and the lover of your ex.

This letter may seem confusing, but this is every woman who passes you by they’re somebody to somebody. We never know what a person is going through and who they’re to become because society has taught women that we are last. So, we act like men and push each other to the side because we dare to get to know one another. Your pain may help me to achieve my greatest victories. Is what society is teaching us.

Not the pain of you abusing me or with ill intent but your wisdom from life and your point of view could help me grow into who I need to be. Women have become so strong that we don’t know what true strength is. Life exposes our weakness leaving us hurt, to be mocked, and ridiculed by society because we have decided to stop loving because society didn’t appreciate our love.

Making us as the nurturers lack the capacity to give love, to offer empathy, and to give empathy. Because to give love in this day and age is to be considered weak, naïve, dumb, and wanting a relationship 24/7. So, when things happen to us, we silence our voices, change our actions, and act as if nothing ever happens. The only reason I’m writing this letter is because my child said black woman are needy.

If any other parent heard this, you would be ready to dismiss his point of view and educate your child on black woman and all the things we had done in this world to be great. But I didn’t because we were speaking freely and honest about the things that has happen in my life. How I don’t cry a lot and how other women of society standards would call me cold hearted when I’m the complete opposite.

My child has seen me work his entire life tiresomely to provide for the things he needed, and I needed to be able to survive in America. I didn’t have the luxury of have a masculine energy being able to provide for me on a constant basis. I had to work, and I’m cool with such because I’m not the average girl. I like a challenge. Getting into relationships wasn’t really my thing because like most when you see your friends getting hurt over no good men, or dating down, and don’t know ideally what true love is, you stray away from it.

I told yall I believe in the term “leave people how you got them because no matter how dysfunctional their reality is somebody is accustomed to it.” Everybody don’t take to kindly to you coming into the life, shaking things up only to leave halfway through the mess. I ain’t no quitter but I sholl am a procrastinator, it’ll make you mad if you always require fast quick things from me.

But it dawned on me how everybody is looking for love and partners in marriages/relationships don’t know how to work together. Because childhood experiences matter. I told yall in blog ago that the worse thing a young black man can see growing up is his mother unable to maintain her emotions. I went through the dark knight and it had me allover the place. The beauty of it is we grew together and not apart.

It showed my child I wasn’t the superhero he thought I was. So, those things he thought he could always get stopped, those jobs stopped, and school for me didn’t bring in no money. I was hustled the fuck out and quite frankly tired of doing the same thing. See, he never really had to struggle to him but to know mama couldn’t make away this time took a toll on him and me.

He had to start doing things more around the house because I’m not domesticated so to him thinking mama always going to do it and I got it, chile attitudes came with it. Any other time I had no problem with him tearing the house up and me cleaning up coming home from work cooking food tired as hell because I felt guilty of all the time we spent apart because I had to work so much.

I was young mom full of life wanting to have a life as well and being a mom that shit don’t go hand and hand when you don’t have no balance and structure. So, a spoiled little boy which is my first born had to see life was real, really quick and moving back to mama house wasn’t so fun because it isn’t that many kids in the neighborhood where we live. So, instead me raising him like most boys saying don’t cry you a man and he gone be the man of the house he had to be able to adjust.

He is a Pisces, their mutable sign so he is able to adjust to anything but when he doesn’t want to, he can give me hell to pay. As the times changed and the environment, I started to ask him to do more. Naturally any other old head would say that boy lazy he don’t want to do nothing and end up pushing him in the thug life because he feels he need to provide for me and making him unbearable for another woman to love. Not this boy over here. He is gone be free to love and experience life.

I’m going to get me these bands, a man, my body done, so I needed him to be able to adjust to me doing whatever the hell I want because he ain’t my man and I don’t need him taking care of me. So, I thought to myself about all the countless of black women in America that reject help from other women because the color of the their skin, how they dress, how they talk, who their dating, who they loving, and what they do.