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[blackwarrior]

Black Women Will Die!

These abortion restrictions will kill so many Black women and no one seems to care. White women would rather stick with the patriarchy than vote with marginalized women. It is so sickening. Legislators will not stop at abortion access, they are hoping to take away contraceptives as well. They are coming for all women so we better stick together.

[blackwarrior]

Open Letter- A black woman’s tale

First, I am not a professional writer as you will soon find out. My apologies. Second, I do not blame anyone for the perils of my life. I take full responsibility for all my mistakes, and I own all of them fully. I simply wish for more time to correct the ones I have made, don’t we all? I do live by the proverb “Fall down seven times stand up eight.” My problem is that I keep falling and I am not sure whether I could remain standing, even if I do muster the strength to stand.

This isn’t a woe is me tirade. I know that I am not the only one with feelings of regret, but I do often think of wasted opportunities and having little time left for a do over. So, I am reaching out to you, anyone who could hear me. Someone who could understand the isolation, fear, exhaustion, sadness, and anger that I feel towards myself and the world. Of all these negative feelings, anger is the worst. It has consumed me and taken over my entire life. I am angry because I have worked so hard to change my life for the better, for myself and my 16-year-old daughter, but once I come close to achieving my goals, the goalpost moves a little bit farther away. It feels like a generational curse. Yes, I do believe in curses. From the age of four I was told that I would never achieve anything in life because I am too black and ugly. I was also told I am cursed. Yes, there is a colorism problem in the Caribbean. Yes, I am ugly, but I would like to think that I am smart and ugly. I am hoping that counts for something.

I find myself working into the night and not reaping any benefits. I feel isolated, feeling like I am the only one this miserable. I am fearful because I have no idea what the future holds for myself and my daughter, who probably hates me with a passion. I question my judgement often. What if I had stayed with her dad a little bit longer, would I have more financial security? Maybe if I were not so mouthy, he would not have lashed out as often as he did. Maybe it was my fault he became so violent.

As I write this letter, I can feel the presence of my 75-year-old mother. She has come to the living room with her pillow and blanket. She is afraid of the demons in her bed. There is a mother demon with her husband and four children, and they all visit my mother at night. They sleep in her bed and attempt to sexually abuse my daughter’s teddy bears that she has kept since she was a baby. You see my mom has dementia. She hallucinates often and believes there are 4 dogs living with us, along with a mother demon and her family. This mother demon arrives everyday at 5pm and sleeps in our third bedroom-we live in a 2-bedroom condo. This is a nightly routine. This illness happened in a blink of an eye. One minute my mother was cooking, cleaning, and doing her own groceries and then boom, she is now a child, asking me to check under her bed and closet for a demon who steals her clothes. These hallucinations last for at least 12 hours every day, all while I am trying to work to hopefully change the trajectory of my life. I know I sound selfish. This shouldn’t be about me.

I know what you are thinking. Why don’t I get some help or put her in a senior’s home? The truth is that I would feel so guilty doing so. With the current pandemic, how would I live with myself putting my aging mother in a nursing home knowing that so many COVID-19 deaths occurred in these homes? This is a guilt-inducing decision that no one should have to make alone, and God knows I cannot live with any more regret. There is no one I could turn too, no one I could call. When I try to explain what is happening to relatives, I am told to buy holy water, sprinkle salt all over the bedroom floors, wear our nightgowns inside out, sleep with a pair of scissors under our pillows, sleep with the Bible open to Psalms 23-apparently, this keeps the demons away. I do not wish this life on anyone.

I feel burnt out, emotionally drained and my body is tired from lack of sleep- I sleep for maybe 3 hours a day. But I should not be complaining, I feel guilty and weak for doing so. I am supposed to be a “strong black woman”.

I am supposed to grin and bear it. After all, many black women are the breadwinners and care takes of their family.

My business is suffering too. I am worried that I will fail once again, and we will all end up homeless. We are very close to becoming homeless.

I am hoping for the best, but I am prepared for the worst. Okay, I am not prepared. I am hoping for a miracle. I have been meditating for 5 minutes a day as a form of self-care, trying to practice some self-compassion. I guess it is easier to forgive others for their mistakes than it is to forgive yourself. I cannot help but think that the wrong decisions led me to my current situation. Maybe if I had more money, more resources, I would not be in this situation.

Incidentally, my business is Omiiko, it is centered around having compassion for ourselves, others, animals, the environment, and the planet. In these challenging times, compassion may be the only force that unites us.

I am passionate about Omiiko but I know the statistics of owing a business as a black woman. Although black women are launching more businesses, we lack access to funding. So I started small, just compassion t-shirts for now. Does selling t-shirts pay the bills? That’s a great question. I may have to work 2 jobs and take care of my mom and daughter on my own.

I guess this was a woe is me letter after all. My apologies. I am too much of a wuss to leave my last name. I am still fearful of my daughter’s father. I keep dreaming he will find us. I can still see the hate and anger in his eyes. I am not running away from him, just hiding for a little while longer.

Thank you for listening. In some ways I feel heard and less isolated. Please remember to be kind; Everyone you meet is fighting a secret battle. I am struggling to cope, barely hanging on but I hope that one day, this too shall pass. Please forgive my writing.

Remember to #bekind. This thing called life is overwhelming.

It helps to show some compassion and empathy to someone who may really appreciate it.

Best,

Deborah