I am at my wit’s end with this struggle bus that the black community uses as it’s sole source of transit. I want no part of it. In fact, I am not part of it and that has rang true for a long time. My only regret is not totally jumping ship long ago.
The black community is not simply a place, a few blocks, or a neighborhood. Even more than a physical locale, the black community is a mindset. I would probably equate this mindset with poverty, depression, greed, envy, negative thinking and overall dysfunction.
Personally, I recall for the longest time just feeling STUCK. Though my paternal and maternal families were quite different they were very alike in many ways. I gravitated toward my mother’s family, which in my opinion was a downfall of mine (still not saying that the paternal side was better, just different). Though it wasn’t all of my maternal family that caused me grief but as I now realize…my mother’s mother. I have always been quite close to her, despite my being aware of her being a thief and having stole a very small sum of money from me as a teen. I looked past a lot of her malicious ways for some reason. I never knew exactly why I wanted to remain close with her, however I now realize that I carried a great deal of her pain and it held me near her like a magnet. Not only did it hold me near but it held me down. This woman was never someone I (or any of the grandchildren) could go to and get sound advice. She was an instigator, a manipulator and ultimately the cause of her offspring not maintaining close relationships with one another. I remember even as a young girl hearing my grandmother speak so negatively about successful black women, Oprah Winfrey namely. In my mind I knew I wanted to be more like Oprah than I did my grandmother, though I maintained an unhealthy sense of loyalty for way too long. I would truly need a whole book to speak on the negative and stagnant effect that my maternal grandmother has not only had on me but on just about all of her children and grandchildren. My grandmother even spread rumors about her own so-called best friend whom she knew for 45+ years, even as this woman was living her last days on Earth.
While I love my mother’s mother because of the blood relation, her character induces hate somewhere within me.
I like to keep hatred out of my heart for the most part but the truth is…negative emotions are sometimes necessary. Negative emotions have some sort of driving force that love and light simply doesn’t provide. Misplaced love will keep you stuck in a non-productive situation. It isn’t until we begin to hate a person, place or thing that we get the fuck up and really bring about change in our lives.
Of course it is not an easy task to abandon what we’ve grown accustomed to but sometimes it becomes a matter of life or death. I don’t mean physical death but a spiritual one. As I stated in the intro, I equate the black community and it’s mindset with depression, greed, envy, negative thinking, misery and overall dysfunction….all things that are synonymous to a spiritually dead person. I do not relate with the struggle. I am not part of the problem.
I am creating a prosperous and colorful life for myself and I will not maintain connections to anything or anyone that doesn’t not serve me.
I told my own mother…if you continue to be a negative force in my life I will discriminately and indefinitely cut you off. I mean that. There is no karma waiting to ten-fold my ass for choosing myself over the struggle.
I am karma.
I am a traitorous bitch.
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