Society puts labels on everyone including myself on how to behave, act, feel, and it’s annoying at worst.
Being strong is a hard definition to be all powerful, confident, and able to withstand the pressures of daily life. But for Black women, is just able to stand the insults, the stares, the pains and sorrows, the humiliations and the constant failures and assume to put on a happy face and pretend everything’s alright.
For me, I couldn’t. I have been rejected so many times and lift up when someone has been emotionally bring me down that I just became numb.
I failed numerous occasions. I tried to find a purpose, a motive to live, at least to enjoy the numerous things in life has to offer but in the end, I got robbed by societal standards and instead they gave me a mop and a bucket to clean what I didn’t spill.
People always look the other way when I walk around. Their fear in their eyes is very noticeable, even if they try to be “friendly” and I asked myself why. It is because of my color of my skin? My looks? What their parents told them about Black Women?
The only attributes that I have? My earrings. My face and body is considered nothing by anyone, not even my eyes are attractive, my hair is considered nothing, my body is an inconvenience that I don’t bother looking at the mirror. Years of bullying did all that even from my own family. I get complemented only on my little piece of jewelry. Even thought I show a great sense of humor and great personality, it doesn’t seem to work at all.
My soul and spirit are shattered in a million pieces by events in my life, by words people say, by actions that people caused, by decisions that I made in order to keep my boat afloat, that it’s impossible to gather those missing pieces. I’m starting to lose hope like I did a week ago when all I wanted to do is park my car in the garage, exhale, inhale and fade away. That if my husband didn’t came in time to take the keys out of the ignition and reminded me that “If I fade away, they win” I would be gone for good.
But how much should I withstand these things? Honestly is a hassle. It’s an inconvenience. It’s unfairness. I can’t take it! I don’t want it! I don’t want to be strong, because I am Weak! Because I failed myself to pretend that I can conquer mountains when all I did was stepping and falling. Don’t expect me to not feel anything, because it hurts every time that I stand up to go on to then later another vicious attack is coming at my sights. I feel, I cry, I get hurt, so don’t expect me to be like a robot or a machine.