Sickness gives me time to think about how I’m feeling about… things. For some reason, the idea of broken trust came about. I don’t exactly know why, but with all the #FergusonOctober and South Grand protests over the last few months, I think my brain has ousted itself on divulging… or rather gorging… on the mere fact of racism being a prevalent factor in the decisions made by everyday Midwesterns.
Black people are no stranger to racism. It’s grown from being overt to now being a kind of diet variety. White people may not totally understand this, and that’s fine. There’s no need for them to really be taught this especially when subtle things like the popularity of Thug Kitchen become topics to consider of whether they fit the definition of being racist (spoiler alert: the couple who invented it are a late 20-something white couple in LA). Racism is something that white people aren’t really taught about. So, I guess, I feel like they can’t really know what they’re doing. Although, like anything else, that doesn’t excuse it from being wrong.
“I chose to do the opposite given the fact that my good-guy-wanna-be nature really doesn’t crave to go out and shout to the heavens what I want.”
Take for instance my vegan lifestyle. I take more of the live and let live approach to it. Yes, I have my own beliefs, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to come storming in your kitchen, call you a murderer, and then start splatting red paint on any and everything. I have limits. Some others want to express theirs a lot more violently. I chose to do the opposite given the fact that my good-guy-wanna-be nature really doesn’t crave to go out and shout to the heavens what I want. So, when I’m eating dinner at your place, I’m not asking what kind of cookware you baked my tofu in… as long as it was clean before you started, I’m good.
I know the limits of what to impose on others. I understand that sometimes people don’t always get their way. If that was the case, I would have never had to go through the last 5 months of hell to only come out somewhat physically unscathed but mentally abused and punished by those who think “Oops, I did a no-no!” But I digress on my anger, and I’ll divert back to the fact that white people don’t know any better, sometimes. That “Oops, no-no”, it was taught to them by their father, neighborhood, and whoever or whatever else was within their reach. The hard part is remembering that, sometimes.
The most heartbreaking thing about this whole diatribe is that when I’ve experienced a white person get enlightened, they tend to go back, easily swayed by the threat of “not having”. I, too, know this pain. Take for instance, again, when I came out of the closet oh-so-many years ago. I was threatened with losing folks. Folks that I respected or even looked up to. But the real thing is: those folks really didn’t “know” me. Those folks were the ones who had this mythical view of me that they put up in their minds, and then when I hit them with a reality that was different than what they imagined me to be, their minds were simply “blown”. But here’s the real kicker: they were ALL people who “thought” they knew me. All of them. Every single one that I think of, they seemed to have me down pat in their mind. There were times I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, even when times were good. They’d just shut me up with a “Girl, I know you!” kind of look or saying or way of being and I’d just sit down and say “Well… okay…”
“They just kept on being who they were being and thinking what they were thinking and saying to me that I must be making a huge error seeing that I don’t match up with the mirror image of me that they had grown to expect me to be. It was too much for them, and I became the bad person.”
I don’t really see a fault here. It’s more of a misunderstanding in my opinion. But the trust that I had in those people was certainly broken. They weren’t advanced enough to see that they had mistaken me for someone that they completely made up in their brain. They were never corrected, or they never listened. They just kept on being who they were being and thinking what they were thinking and saying to me that I must be making a huge error seeing that I don’t match up with the mirror image of me that they had grown to expect me to be. It was too much for them, and I became the bad person.
It’s emotionally damaging to see people tear you down, especially when they spent so many hours building you up. It’s a wonderment of how and why they even sought the need to do so in the first place. I never asked for it, but yet and still, they spent hours… months even… trying to prove that I was this horrible, manipulative person. I asked myself “How could they even have time for doing that? Why did it matter to them so much?”
And now, in the hours when I am sick and supposed to be laying in the bed, I’m thinking about these things. And the only conclusion I can come to, now, is that these times… when I’m sick, destitute, vulnerable, and easily irritable… are the times when you see the trust of people really come out in one way or another. It’s the time when you see that people either really love you, like you, or hate you. Everything is clear(er). Everything is brave(r). Everything just makes more sense.
“Yes, at first, I was a raving mad beotch that thought that there must be something wrong with the world especially if they are doing things that I perceive as obviously, clearly bad that they cannot, in any way, refute it. But then I started to learn that it’s not that much thinking involved.”
I talked about things being cursed, recently. Rooms, positions, people, sense of being… and I wonder if people can see and feel it the way I do. I can look at a person and see that they’ve been doomed, but believe that there is no way out. I can walk into a room and feel the energy within it. I know that when I never meet up with someone or something never really quite seems to be right about a situation, that there’s something “wrong” with it. Maybe it’s not the thing, place, time, or event that’s bad… but the energy surround it or the aura or origin of it is off and it needs to be recognized and rectified. I see it within myself, when I am being a bad omen for someone else. I take myself from it, though, as I know there’s something broken inside of me that needs to heal before things are “right” again.
However, I found out recently that people aren’t as proactive by nature as I seem to be. I tend to think on the other side of the fence, and not want for its contents solely because I glean that the other side must obviously not be experiencing the same trial and tribulations that I must be going through. I’ve tended to stop thinking that, at all. I’m more sensitive to people. Yes, at first, I was a raving mad beotch that thought that there must be something wrong with the world especially if they are doing things that I perceive as obviously, clearly bad that they cannot, in any way, refute it. But then I started to learn that it’s not that much thinking involved. Take this naval woman, for instance. What she’s saying is real. There is no grand conspiracy. People don’t think that much. Maybe one person, but not a whole village full of people.
I’ve come to realize, then, with all that’s been going on that it’s really about a few, key people who have taken themselves out of the limelight. They’re hella persuasive, and can convince even the most steadfast believer, even people who have known me and worked side-by-side with me for years, that I must be some cruel brute. I get it now. I just don’t understand their motives other than they are doing it as some sort of sick revenge on someone within their own past/present life. I guess I must remind people of something… maybe themselves… and they think that surely I must need to be punished like they were in their own lives, because I’m too darn happy and accepting to really be living a real one, myself.