Inspiration

 

            

When I think about inspiration, I sometimes wonder where do people look, where do you turn? And I have to remind myself that as women some of our greatest inspiration comes from the women who have walked in our shoes. Why? Because they are the ones who can truly understand us. It is those women who can point us in the right direction, those who have stood for what they believe in fought to maintain their dignity and womanhood and have succeeded despite the odds that were against them.

Inspiration, where do we look and who do we look to? We look to those women who are so like ourselves, mirror images of all the struggles that we like them have faced. Those women that are so like us, and us like them fight the outside forces that would like to keep us oppressed so that we may stay depressed, depressed because of failed marriages and relationships. Oppressed and depressed because we can't find the person to love us for who we are and not because of what we can do for them. There are no magic makeovers and quick fixes that can patch up the holes that we have in our hearts leaving open sores and gaping wounds that bleed the very essence of who we are as women.

The outside world and those who are not so like us, would like to keep us on a leash to be at each other’s throat, going for the jugular vein, in hopes that we will not support one another, that we will keep hating on one another, that I will not see you as a woman of substance as you see me. Outside forces that say settle for whatever floats your boat, I think not! I see you as you see me, woman, sister, struggle, loved empowered, where do I go for inspiration, who I look to, my sisters.

Why do we as sisters and women have to be the Celie’s fighting the Albert's of this world?

Albert: Who you think you is? You can’t curse nobody. Look at you. You’re black, you’re poor, you’re ugly, you’re a woman, you’re nothing at all!

Celie: Until you do right by me, everything you even think about gonna fail!

Albert: I’ma knock you under…

Celie: Everything you done to me, you already done to you. I’m poor, I’m black, I may even be ugly, but, dear God, I’m here, I’m here!

Why can’t we just tell each other I’m here? Just like Celie we have to know that there is no shame in womanhood, no matter if the world see’s us as black and ugly, Know that we are BEAUTIFUL inside and out! Nobody can put us in heaven or hell. Inspiration where do we find it and who do we look to, we look to each other, sisters. Call me old school, but friendship and Sisterhoods are not maintained because there’s a long history of support, confidences shared, and mutual admiration. Sisterhoods and friendships are more importantly because it has withstood the test of time and misunderstandings, disagreements, bruised feelings, and make-ups, laughter, tears, encouraging and empowering each other as women. Telling each other girl we gonna do this; we can make it I have your back. I have found inspiration in my circle of cyber sisters and friends, TRUE REAL women who have known struggle, understand struggle and support other women in their struggle. So I say to my sister’s stay focused, press forward, stay encouraged, and wear your heels high and your expectations higher. let the Albert's of this world keep swatting the flies, sitting on the front porch rocking, because we are the strong Celie's of the world, we may be all that the Albert's wish we were, but Dear God we are here. We are here! I Got Your Back!!

~Indigokiss~

 

 

The Angry Black Woman!!

 

Every black woman I know has had to battle with wearing the breast plated stereotype of her being labeled as the angry black woman. The connotations that we are unreasonable, outspoken the first one to raise hell and uncontrollable. It has been said that we are too emotional and become unhinged at the mere thought of everything and everyone that cross us wrong.

The stigmatism takes no account whatsoever of the possibility that our anger might be justified, and that something’s and some people are so deserving of a black woman’s anger. We are expected to swallow the bitter pill of daily insults to our gender with vulgar words, the insult of being demoralized, victimized and yes even hated. And you say that we are angry! It is said that as black women we don’t wear anger well, it doesn’t look good on us. I have known black women that have risked sanity to hide their anger, and I will be the first to get in line on that note. We risk nervous break downs and carry baggage instead of yelling “back off, right now and I mean it “. Wooosa!!
I am willing to be the first to admit now that I wasted a lot of years’ time and energy in the past being angry. It’s taken a lot of years for me to accept the fact that I’m one of those women who loves hard and feels deeply. Which I finally realized that both are a blessing and a curse. It took me quite a bit of time to figure out that anger is a gift from God.  I soon realized that anger helped me to set boundaries for myself, and put limits on those who cross those boundaries. And in my realization of that I learned how to contain my anger, and aim my anger. I am ashamed to say that I have not always aimed my anger at the right target in the past. I didn’t have to pull out my bow and arrow and hit every moving target that got in my way, are spit fire whenever someone said something dumb and stupid.
There were times when I should have taken the time to heal and grieve, cry, wipe my tears and keep it moving. Instead I developed an Indiana Jones complex of cracking the whip, throwing knives and darts. I should have sat quietly and patiently in solidarity, looking deep within the woman God created, understanding His purpose and His will for my life. I should have looked for the clarity that I needed to fight and survive the fight and come out stronger and wiser than I was before the fight. Anger is supposed to make you want to do something about the craziness and wrong all around you.  The world thinks that it’s an easy job just being a woman, let alone a black woman. Main stream media and television likes to attach the angry black woman, to every black woman. We are not the Aunt Esther’s Bible-toting angry black woman on "Sanford and Son." Or Madea, who carries (peace) Piece in her pocketbook. Pass the popcorn and a tissue please.
Why must we be labeled Nene, the finger-waving, all in-your-face loudmouth hellion on “The Real Housewives of Atlanta? Why should we be defined as having the starring role in I Can Do Bad All By myself, or Diary of a Mad Black Woman, more tissue and more popcorn please? Why do we have to be labeled angry black woman, why can’t we just live in the light of Tupac’s words ““Keep Ya Head Up ““And since we all came from a woman Got our name from a woman and our game from a woman I wonder why we take from our women Why we rape our women, do we hate our women? I think it’s time to kill for our women Time to heal our women, be real to our women”. Now let’s bob our heads and wave our fingers at that. And in the true light of things, when we are still labeled Angry Black Woman, let’s just keep calm, make sure we hit the right targets, and perhaps, just perhaps that’s what the Bible means when it says, “Be angry, but sin not.” Aim with precision. Ha I ‘ain’t mad at Ya!
~Indigokiss~