Oh, I like being a woman who’s also “black”, just fine, it’s people getting on my nerves that ruins it.
You are damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.
People like making up these “what a black woman shouldn’t do” rules, because they are emotional bullies, hypocrites, and misogynists.
If you work for your money, you are a bank. If you are broke, you are persona non grata.
If you express joy and satisfaction in making money, men call you mercenary. If you show little interest in money people become incredulous, because you’re supposed to be stressing over it. I recognize my limitations with fiscal sophistication. I manage as best I can. Sometimes I win. Sometimes I lose. Yet I don’t become smug or condescending because of it.
If you are single, people think your time isn’t worth anything. They assume it can be harnessed for the benefit of the married, or not married, with children, and the selfish. I cannot stand “bring your brats to work” day at the job. The parents think only the singles should work. I take the day off if they plan on being that disruptive.
Your achievements make people envious, upset, and testy. If I’m not taking from you, why worry about my business? Folks like to think that every black woman is at the bottom, and it upsets them if we are doing better than them.
Your setbacks make their day. Oh, they practice schadenfreude like a religion.
Men assume you will play Big Momma to them, because you get up every morning and work. What else am I supposed to do? Sit at home? Will you pay the bills, sir? Should I yearn to earn less than the average man at the same job?
Years ago, I had a guy tell me he likes me, because I work for “good money” and his future ex-girlfriend did not. He said she worked with the expectation of being an at-home mother. So, I’m supposed to be complimented with the assumption that I wouldn’t want to stay home and raise my kids too? WTF? This was coming from a white dude (ex-gf being white) who grew up among wolves … oh, sorry, black guys.
If you do not have children men will say, “I’m sorry.” I’ve never expressed regret that I do not have any. So, why am I supposed to be sorry? Not every woman who has a uterus has to use it. There is more to us than childbearing.
Some men assume that black women are so manly that we can all lift heavy weights, work out strenuously, and perform heavy-duty tasks like men. Back the hell up with that nonsense. I tell ’em straight, “I’m not a man. I’m delicate.” I get cold easily. I cannot lift heavy weights. The only place I’m running is on a treadmill. I don’t do anything to injure myself.
If you own property, a fellow will ask you why you bought it, as if I have the nerve to live in a house without his permission.
If you drive a nice car, jerks will ask you who bought it for you. This can go either way, if I bought it myself, I’m showing off, if a guy bought it for me… Oh well, let’s not go there.
Leave me alone about how I wear my hair. Seriously. Some people are looking to get the crap knocked out of them.
I don’t require anyone’s permission to do anything. I just go ahead and do.
Hey, black guys! If we accidentally make eye contact, that doesn’t mean I’m interested! If you are with a white woman: Leave me alone. What is with you guys? You’ve got your prize, no one cares, especially not me. I cannot tell you the number of times some negro acts up whenever he’s got a white chick by his side. I don’t even notice these fools until they say something, or they stare so long I can feel it.
Regardless of what some fellows think, just because I am a black woman, don’t even try and tell what I can or cannot do. I’ve heard enough from the “you-just-can’t” losers all of my life, and it didn’t, and it doesn’t stop me from having the life I want.
I do, and get, what I want, when I want, and how I want. That’s my motto since Day 1, and it always will be.