We Black Women: Seen, Heard, and Beautiful!

WE BLACK WOMEN

We black women are

Mamas, sisters, friends, lovers, teachers, warriors, and sometimes enemies of those who hate us and who want to exploit and use us, mostly for sex and company,

We black women have stood strong and proud in the face of hate and rejection by those who do not see us, who do not love us,

Because of their own pain and their own fears.

But we black women

 

We are like Maya Angelou

And Fannie Lou Hamer

And Nina Simone

And Angela Davis

And Elaine Brown

And Billie Holiday

And Alice Walker

And Abbey Lincoln

And Shirley Horn

And Bessie Smith

And June Jordan

And Marimba Ani

And Toni Morrison

And Anita Hill

And bell hooks

And many, many more black women – like my own mother and sister.

We are black, and we are women

We have changed our worlds and this world for the better and the world sees us and knows what we have done.

The world knows who we are.

 

Not all black women do good, not all black women are good

There are some black women have done irreparable harm to their children and to their families,

But most of all they have abandoned themselves.

There are black women who have given up on living their own lives

Maybe they did and do not know how to live for themselves

Maybe the fear of life and others has overcome and overpowered them

Maybe they have believed what others said about them, so therefore they lived the lies of others.

 

But there are many of us, black women, who have turned other peoples’ lies upside down

We black women have told and written our own stories

We black women are remembered as the authors and finishers of our own fates

And, we black women have survived the unthinkable, the unimaginable when we could have been dead and gone.

 

We black women.

 

We black.

We black.

We black.

And, we women.

We women.

We women.

We women.

We black women are proudly black and we will be seen, heard, for indeed, we are very, very beautiful.

© 2017 annalise fonza, Ph.D.

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We Black Women: Seen, Heard, and Beautiful

This blog entry is partially written in response to someone who recently said to me, “See that’s what is wrong with you black women.” With a cowardly text, and out of nowhere, this man – a black man who has claimed to love me – spewed his contempt and hate toward me and toward black women by saying, “Something is wrong with you black women.” Needless to say, I was infuriated by his hateful rant, yet it was one that helped me to see him for who he really is: a misogynist – one who hates women; one who holds women in contempt. It was a painful realization that I did not want to face because he is a black man, born of a black woman and raised by his black sisters. His misogyny is something that I did not want to acknowledge or admit. I wanted to believe that he was better than the man that he kept proving himself to be (despite all of his best apologies) – after two years of knowing him, intimately.  But, finally, getting that text, a cowardly act from behind his telephone screen where he was hiding out thinking that he was unseen, jolted me out of my denial and caused me to recognize him for who he is, and for the awfully abusive man that he obviously wants to be, since he too knows and admits that he has “issues” with black women, yet he refuses to address those issues. Instead, he keeps getting involved with black women and, tragically, the contempt and hate he feels for black women comes out, sabotaging his relationships with black women, including the ones he has with the women in his family. He repeatedly hurts himself and others, and then he runs, hides, and blames all the “black b*tches” that he chooses to be with. Of course, later, he apologizes, he claims to take “full responsibility” for the undoing of his relationships, but because he is not getting help for his pain (nor do I believe at this point that he is willing or able to stop doing what he is doing on his own – because he has made it clear that he is who he wants to be, end of story, end of life) he cycles right back into a mound of abuse and disappointment with yet another black woman.

Yes, this is the very definition of insanity; it is also a description of a man who is emotionally incompetent and sick and he will make others (especially black women) eventually sick (of his bullsh*t) if they, in turn, choose to be with him. In addition, he is a ragefull man because, to make matters worse, he becomes angry (on top of the anger he already feels from childhood trauma) and dismissive with the women who walk and sometimes run out of his life. He resents them for leaving him. Go figure. Unfortunately, he hasn’t figured it out: no good woman wants (or needs) to be with a man – no matter what color he is – who is not in control of his emotions and who refuses to gain control. And, no woman, black, white, red, or yellow, has to, under any circumstances, put up with any abuse, and definitely not from such a troubled man who is choosing to stay in that condition. Indeed, as one of my friends so accurately said: he is a walking dead man. And the last time I checked, I am so very much alive.

Turning the corner. For those of you who might be wondering, writing is cathartic to me. I write, first and foremost, for myself. It helps me to process my feelings, and it is my way of being heard; my way of standing up for myself and for my feelings. My relationship to writing began when I was a child/adolescent and I would be sent to my room on punishment. In response to that punishment, I would tape notes to my bedroom door (which would be closed); with those notes I expressed my feelings, and most of all, it was my reaction to being silenced and unseen. Who knew that the practice of posting notes to my bedroom door would turn into a passion and an ability to write?

That said, I do not write to “get paid,” although getting paid for my writing is not something that I would turn away. I write because I can; it is something that I  am good at; and, the act of writing for me is what I do to heal myself from pain and from the hatefulness, dismissal, or the harmfulness of others who do not want  to see me or hear me because of their own issues. Writing helps me to express and free myself in a world that is compromised by pain, past and present. And, since I have been writing on public platforms, such as Facebook and WordPress, I have been contacted and told by many that I have helped them to do the same. You cannot imagine how it feels to me to know that my writing and thus my work has helped others to find their voices. That is what freedom is all about: for self and for others.

If you would like to republish my work in a larger platform or in a book, please contact me. I would be more than happy to discuss how that could be done and what it would cost. And now, today’s blog, inspired by the crap that I went through with the man I just told you about:

 

WE BLACK WOMEN

We black women are

Mamas, sisters, friends, lovers, teachers, warriors, and sometimes enemies of those who hate us and who want to exploit and use us, mostly for sex and company,

We black women have stood strong and proud in the face of hate and rejection by those who do not see us, who do not love us,

Because of their own pain and their own fears.

But we black women

 

We are like Maya Angelou

And Fannie Lou Hamer

And Nina Simone

And Angela Davis

And Elaine Brown

And Billie Holiday

And Alice Walker

And Abbey Lincoln

And Shirley Horn

And Bessie Smith

And June Jordan

And Marimba Ani

And Toni Morrison

And Anita Hill

And bell hooks

And many, many more black women – like my own mother and sister.

We are black, and we are women

We have changed our worlds and this world for the better and the world sees us and knows what we have done.

The world knows who we are.

 

Not all black women do good, not all black women are good

There are some black women have done irreparable harm to their children and to their families,

But most of all they have abandoned themselves.

There are black women who have given up on living their own lives

Maybe they did and do not know how to live for themselves

Maybe the fear of life and others has overcome and overpowered them

Maybe they have believed what others said about them, so therefore they lived the lies of others.

 

But there are many of us, black women, who have turned other peoples’ lies upside down

We black women have told and written our own stories

We black women are remembered as the authors and finishers of our own fates

And, we black women have survived the unthinkable, the unimaginable when we could have been dead and gone.

 

We black women.

 

We black.

We black.

We black.

And, we women.

We women.

We women.

We women.

We black women are proudly black and we will be seen, heard, for indeed, we are very, very beautiful.

© 2017 annalise fonza, Ph.D.

 

Long Live The Truth-Tellers!

The current President of the United States believes that there is nothing wrong with sexual harassment.

 

Before he was elected he proudly boasted with other laughing men, “Just grab them by the p*say.”

 

Even then many women (and men) openly praised and supported him.

 

High and intoxicated with their momentary sense of power

 

They looked the other way

 

Denying the reality of who he is, what he stands for, and who he stands against.

 

Truly I have come to realize that some people, even whole groups of people, will openly participate in violating and demeaning women, which often leads to assaulting and destroying them and their dreams

 

And they will do it proudly, often with a twisted mob mentality

 

Even as it brings harm to themselves, to their children, and to many others.

 

Because it is easier to believe in a lie and a liar

 

Than it is to own one’s power when you’ve been told that you have no power – and you believe it –

 

Than it is to face the truth with dignity and with voice.

 

Yet, long live the truth-tellers.

 

The ones who have raised their voices

 

And who have put their lives and livelihoods on the line for what is right and just

 

They have made this world a much better place for all of us to be

 

And they have empowered some of us to be much better human beings

 

More, than those around us who will, unfortunately, in the long-run, choose to self-destruct, and take those who are like them (and some who are not) deeper into their own misery and shame.

 

© 2017 annalise fonza, Ph.D.

On Working With the Littlest Ones

I get to work with children a lot,  although being a K – 12 school teacher is not my primary profession. However, what I like about working with children and adolescents is that they all have good days and bad days, and I get to see it all; the range of their emotions and capabilities is mind-blowing. One minute they are up and all over me with hugs and kisses, and the next they are down with tears, sobs and a few stomps and kicks (and every now and then there’s a little bit of snot). In the end, it is children, especially the littlest ones, who are, I think, some of the most expressive and beautiful creatures on the planet.

Every day I remember and cherish them as I walk out the door and go back home, quietly, to my life without children. And, I know that one day I will be dead and gone, but the memory of me will live quietly in a few of their hearts, all grown up. 

For those memories I am grateful, because without a doubt the faces and sounds of those children live so vividly in my mind, and they give me so much hope for my life and for theirs. And sometimes, maybe most times, in this troubled, violent, so-called adult world that we are living in, hope is really all that we’ve actually got.

 

©2017 annalise fonza, Ph.D.


You Call Me Out of My Name

You call me out of my name every time you ignore me or my calls

Every time you walk out and act as if I never even existed

Every time you accuse me of owing you for what you allegedly gave to me out of love

Every time you pretend that what you said and did were not intended to hurt

Every time you threaten to strike me with your hands or your words

Every time you dismiss me and my feelings like they mean nothing to you

Every time you refuse to acknowledge your part in destroying what we built together

Every time you put what we had in unnecessary danger or jeopardy by neglecting to take care of yourself

Every time you let your anger and self-righteousness demolish the trust we came to cherish

Every time you negate the love that some black women have given to you, including me,  because of the actions of those who did not

Every time you despise and hate me for what others did to you

Every time you blame me for your fears, shortcomings and failures

Every time you fail to understand the difference between the past and the present

Every time you assume that you know more than me or are better than me because you are male

Every time you forsake your own integrity and happiness

For a drink.

© 2017 annalise fonza, Ph.D.

Every Black Woman

I know a black man who was betrayed and abused by black women who once said they loved him, and who once should have loved him.

And so, subconsciously, when he is afraid of losing her, he abuses and abandons nearly every black woman who desires to love him.

This makes him feel worse, and even more abandoned and afraid. 

And, as most self-fulfilling prophecies work, he uses his own actions to falsely blame black women for the recurring pain that he inflicts upon himself. 

I used to think that he did not know how to love.

But now I realize that he is afraid, perhaps even terrified, of love, and the memory of being betrayed and abandoned.

And that’s why he will abuse nearly every black woman who desires to love him.

Until he decides to break the cycle of abuse.

© 2017 annalise fonza, Ph.D.

The Seriousness of Stress

Today, I was in a meeting, and an 88 year old man was talking about the stressors in his life and how he has managed to handle them. In the process of sharing he said something like, “Stress will get you pain; stress will get you cancer; and stress will get you dead.” On a day like today, when I was feeling a considerable amount of stress about some of the changes that are in the very near future, I was reminded of the seriousness of stress. Being a black woman, who is threatened everyday with harmful expressions (particularly of maleness and whiteness), I know that notwithstanding those threats, stress can be just as deadly, if not more.

Of course, I have carried my share of of stress in my lifetime. However, I have suffered the worst when I have taken on the stress of others, specifically when I took on other peoples’ pain. On the one hand, it is good to have compassion for others, and it is good to be there in times of need. On the other hand, I also know people who are going through stress because of self-destructive thinking and behaviors. Indeed, my upbringing has taught me to be there for others and to show empathy. But, when I show more care and compassion for those who are not willing or able to take care of themselves (and with a little honesty and effort on their part they could or should be able to take care of themselves), then I suffer from their stress, while  meanwhile they seem to go along as if nothing is wrong. It is hard to see others’ struggle, but it is even harder to watch someone who is under considerable stress and in denial.

I was grateful to be reminded today that “stress will get you dead” by someone who has lived through more than eight decades of stress. I appreciated his honesty and his vulnerability, and his ability to tell those of us who are younger that it shouldn’t take eighty plus years to learn how to handle stress. Stress is an everyday part of life, and I am willing to take on my stress, the stress that belongs to me. But, what I have to remember is that I do not have to take on any body else’s stress, and especially not when they are not able or conscious enough to admit that they are in trouble and suffering with their own stressors. Taking on their stress when for one reason or another they are inept or unable to even name their stress is, in fact, something that will get me dead; and it is a stress that I simply cannot afford.

© 2017 annalise fonza, Ph.D.