The misuse and degradation of the term "Strong Black Woman"

I am offically calling a moratorium on the phrase "strong black woman" until we (and by we I mean the global 'we') stop using it interchangeably with the word 'bitch'. And I guess for that to happen, we've got to re-think our definition of what a strong black woman is. Time was, a strong black woman was a black woman who was out in the community, fighting for change, all while praising the Lord, raising her children and loving her man. But times have changed. Nowadays, the term is synonymous with 'bitch' and, I am ashamed to admit, more than rightly so. There are women who have affixed themselves with the term "strong black woman" who are anything but. A strong woman isn't combative, loud, emasculating, and bitter. No...that describes a sad woman. A woman who has long ago allowed herself to believe that if she let her guard down long enough for anyone to see the woman inside, everyone would hurt and betray her. A strong woman let's down her guard and allows herself to give and receive love freely...even if she's been hurt before. A sad woman tricks herself into thinking that she doesn't need a man for anything. This is a lie. Our very nature is to need one another...just look at the story of creation in the Bible. the first woman was made when God plucked a rib from the first man. We are innately a part of one another. We DO need each other. We NEED each other to raise our children. Can it be done as a single parent? Sure, but it is not ideal...we were not built for solitude.

I encourage all of us to rethink how we view ourselves. To really look at who we are. Be prepared to be appalled by some of what you see. But also be prepared to change that which appalls you. Let's decide right now that we are going to wash the muck off of the term "strong black woman" and bring it...and ourselves...back to our former glory.

Be blessed.

J~


Suggested reading: Sisters of the Yam by bell hooks

"RAWR RAWR like a dungeon dragon"

I recently heard the remix of Drake's "Best I Ever Had" w/Busta Rhymes. It's an okay song with or without Bussa Bus, but it made me miss Busta Rhymes circa Leaders of the New School. The collabo between Leaders and Tribe was insane. Here's the vid:




Can you tell I've been listening to a lot of old school hip hop?

BackinthadaywhenIwasyoungI'mnotakidanymorebutsomedaysIsitandwishIwasakidagain...

I was listening to the new Yahoo Music (HATE!) and they played this:




And I was transported to nineteen-ninety(mind ya bidness!) when I was young, dumb, and full of...naive notions about life and love and what I would be when I grew up. Walking down the street in the summertime in those shorts that hugged my booty maybe a little too tightly, trying to pretend not to notice those cute boys sitting on that porch in front of that house that always had the cute boys in front of it.

Damn...I feel like walking to the corner store and buyin' a purple jug and a bag of bontons...

Note to the Media...

If you say you're not in 'good conscience' going to report any more stories about "she-must-not-be-named" then maybe you shouldn't then run a report the very next day about how you are not going to in 'good conscience' report any more stories about "she-who-must-not-be-named". That way, you will be keeping your word and that whelping wackadoo will stop getting all this undeserved press. You know when you should report a story on you-know-who? When you are reporting that her children were rescued from her and are now in the care of someone who can actually parent them. Report that. Until then...sheeeuuuut up.

My weekly attempt to get all up in his business...

Me: So. Got a girlfriend yet?
Him: Moooom!
Me: What? I'm just asking. So...do you?
Him: No.
Me: Why?
Him: I just don't.
Me: No girls at school you like?
Him: Nah
Me: Do you like girls?
Him: Yes.
Me: Then, what's the problem?
Him: The girls at my school are...uh...well, they can be "B's".
Me: Bitches?
Him: Yes
Me: Wow. I'm sure not all the girls are, uh, 'witches'.
Him: No...not all. Some are annoying.
Me: What makes them annoying.
Him: They act real silly and flirty.
Me: Wow. Well...that means they like you.
Him: I know...it's annoying.
Me: Wow.
Him: You're saying wow a lot.
Me: Am I? So, there aren't any girls at your school you think are cute??
Him: I think a lot of them are cute...but they're either witches or they're annoying.
Me: Well, you know...at this age girls are probably starting to get their periods. That can make them moody and...witchy.
Him: Were you on yours last week?
Me: Yeah...why?
Him: Just asking...

Scar Tissue

I have a 3 inch scar across the bottom of my neck as the result of thyroid surgery about 6 years ago. I’m barely aware of it now, but I remember being so self-conscious about it right after the surgery. I was afraid that if I wore something that exposed it, that the scar would be all people would see. And for the most part, it was. Not because it was this huge, angry scar, but because I was so hyper-aware of it that I always had my hand over it or was fumbling to try to conceal it. The more I tried to make it less noticeable, the more noticeable it became. Every ten steps, someone was asking ‘what happened to you?’ or, ‘where’d you get that scar’…and I hated it. Not because I was ashamed of the surgery, (it was just thyroid surgery), but it made me different in the most obvious and unwelcome way. For someone who was already painfully uncomfortable in her own skin, that three inch scar was just more unwanted attention waiting to happen.

When I was 9, I began to develop. And when I say, ‘develop’ I mean ‘DD-evelop’. By the time I was in 6th grade, I was in a DD cup. I don’t remember very many happy days from age 11-14 mainly because of how other people reacted to me. Grown men and boys would follow me and say disgusting things to me. It had gotten so bad that I was afraid to walk anywhere by myself. Grown women and girls were mean and made me feel ashamed of something I had no control over. I was hurt by men I loved and trusted, and somehow it felt like it my fault. No one ever told me it wasn’t…not ‘til years later, anyway. As a result, I tried my best to disappear…to just blend into the scenery so nobody noticed me, and no one could hurt me. But ultimately, when you fight your nature, the more you try to disappear, the more you’re seen.

Would I prefer not to have a 3 inch scar on my neck? Yes. Would I have preferred to not have been made to feel awkward and ashamed of the body God gave me? Sure. But the truth of the matter is, the scar tissue…both seen and unseen from those times in my life and many more are a necessary part of the sum total of who I am. For better or worse. Every experience is like a shot of fire on the skin…on the psyche…meant to forge us into something new and stronger. Maybe even something better. I thank God for the fire and for the pain because even though I may not be what I want to be…I’m no longer what I was.

Solitary Confinement

Sometimes I wonder if my loneliness is self-imposed. I smile, joke and laugh...but my guard is never really down. I've been hurt by people whose job it was to love and protect me, but is that really any justification for locking myself away from happiness? Is it because I know that sometimes what looks like joy can cut like a dagger?

Maybe I should welcome the pain the cuts will bring. At least then, I'll know I'm still alive.