Totally Over It
It’s been weeks now.
One national story after another. A Black woman is killed here. Another is killed there. A famous Black woman is hurt and expresses her pain. And I lose it a little more with each story. While these are all vastly different situations, what remains the same is the public’s response. Empathy for the men, condemnation for the women. No matter the scenario, there is something that that Black woman has done wrong enough in order to justify whatever she’s experienced. Maybe she was open with her disappointment about how the community has treated her? Maybe she stayed when others say they would have left? Maybe she’s had previous boyfriends? Whatever it is, get the pillory ready. No Black woman will be left unscathed if we have any say about it.
Anger doesn’t feel like the appropriate response anymore. I can be angry. Twist my face up and look at others through the corners of my eyes. But people need to see you to know that you’re angry. They need to care enough to look. Otherwise you’re glaring in the corner, looking like a spoiled child who’s been placed in timeout. You could cry but crying is an expression of more simple emotions. This feels layered and complex. So then what is the solution? How do you express distaste and frustration and fury and indignation all at once without it coming out as some horribly warbled scream? Well you stop. Full stop.
This means no arguing, no bartering, no yelling at or with. Just nothing. These are leeches who sustain themselves on the frustration of others. In this case, they’ve been going for a week now, arguing the worth of Black women on a public stage. What was initially more antagonism of Megan Thee Stallion (their pastime) has turned into debates on whether Black women even deserve love or respect (their other pastime). We’ve seen a resurgence in some of the dehumanizing “art” I grew up with online. Many of the forgotten male celebrities we’ve grown up watching, have come out from their holes to join the big misogynoir party. They are hungry and they feed on attention. Rather than give them that, I choose to give them exactly what they deserve. Absolutely nothing. But it isn’t as simple as that.
When I think of “nothing” I think of a big empty room with no windows. You can’t see it but there’s mist circling at your feet. That ringing that you get from being in a silence is deafening and anyone in there just sort of floats. That’s more or less where I have left this “community” of antagonists and fiends. To start this means no support. You can’t support “nothing”. The music and projects of these people will go un-listened to or acknowledged by me. All works ignored. This also means no community in my everyday life. It should go without saying but if you hate Black women we cannot be friends. The romance bit of that should also be obvious. Most of these people are really big colorists so it really doesn’t even matter. When people feed on you the best option is to starve them out. This feels appropriately cruel, given the everything of it all.
This isn’t a slight on the women fighting the good fight. Doing advocacy and building bridges. I commend them. I used to be one of them. But I realize that’s a kind of strength I can no longer maintain. The best I can do is keep myself together. I don’t even have the proper energy for a rant. That is a performance they don’t even deserve.
Mic drop....well said. I agree 1000%.