Who you were, before the world told you who to be?
Saw this somewhere on Facebook today and it struck me – hard, like an open handed bitch slap from Michael Clark Duncan.
Yes, I do remember. Now I do, but it was/is hard work – like the emotional and spiritual version of reverse pull ups, one handed push ups or doing a marathon. I had to work at it every day. I had to join Mensa. I had to verify and test my memories – make sure I wasn’t imagining the way I grew up – drove my mother crazy. I had to contact the Ministry of Education in Jamaica. I needed to make sure I was not really THAT nigger – to believe I was who I was, not who they treated me like.
I still have the Rocky look on my face practically every day or inside my head. You know the one. After he has been beat down to the ground where no on should be able to get up from and you see the look in his eyes right before he.. gets up.
The struggle has lessened but remains… especially because I have not made the same kind of effort to get over the anger and especially if I make the mistake of paying attention to the news.
Here this is needed again…
On the day that I can genuinely feel like I am not fighting to get up from a battering – I won’t be angry any more.
Right now. It sustains me… enables me to keep getting up.