Tuesday, July 17, 2012

I would rather be a slave physically than a mental slave for the rest of my life....

So as a black woman speaking right now I really just don’t understand how we have sat up and up with the shit we go through each day.
I’m watching the movie The Help (something I thought I would never ever watch because I was getting tired of watching movies like this) but it’s sending a point across.

I don’t understand how we talk shit about other people and their situations and what they are going through with their families when we are the one at home being raped and beaten every day. But yet for some reason we always have the courage to pick ourselves back up, wipe on the lighter shade of foundation, sweep on that blush and roll on that too colored light lipstick and walk around like the world is so fuckin peaceful. We carry this weight on our shoulders as if we have to be the strongest woman in the world at all times. We have this negative thought in our heads as if we don’t support our own race, no matter what the cause is we are failures. We feel as though as we aren’t as good as our mothers and our grandmothers and our great great grandmothers were.

I sat here an watched this movie sand the only thing I could think of was how man secrets were holding from each other. How many secretes we were keeping from our very own children in order to “protect them” because we didn’t want them to get hurt like we got hurt. But the only way to end that problem is to find a solution to the answer. We have been raped and beaten multiple times but yet we ignore our very one feelings and emotions. We use other objects to hide what we’re feeling.

We as black women are so strong that we break our own selves down. We don’t need anyone else to do it for us. We criticize ourselves to the point of a meltdown, a mental meltdown. But yet when we need help with that meltdown we don’t allow anyone else in to try to help us. We sit and soak and moan and groan all day long but when it’s right in front of our face we turn away with shame and disgust.

We are shameful because we feel as though we couldn’t help ourselves and therefore we can help our families. That disgusted feeling is because we couldn’t do anything to change it. We carry that guilt around with us, even when we are sleeping we have no control over it.

Our emotional connections to our own family are so weak that we can’t justify them. I will never understand how we put up with that bullshit back in in the 60s and 70s but not one of us can stand up for our rights???????? We can’t stand up and say I’ve been raped, I’ve been beaten, I’ve been molested……………

So I sit here, take another sip of my drink and try to relax as I’m watching the movie. I really don’t see what has changes in those past 60 years, we are still slaves. Were just slaves to our own community and to ourselves, and we can’t blame anyone but ourselves.
I just want to cry for us because we are killing ourselves. We don’t talk about anything, we deny the truth but when it happens to other people we are so quick to jump into their cases when we know that we are sitting right in front with them……