This post is less about cheerfully guiding you on how to keep your head above the all consuming waves of the quarter life crisis because truth be told I am currently getting my ass kicked. My intention with this post is catharsis. I simply want to reflect on the realizations I wish I had long before this point.
‘Tribeless-ness’
One day we will have a civilized discussion about the lasting impact being branded an ‘Oreo’ has had on many Black children– me included. It took a decade and a half to finally be able to verbalize why the juvenile pejorative triggered me like no other. Seriously! I’ve had some of the ugliest, most degrading insults hurled at me but never did they shake my sense of self like ‘”Oreo”. That label burned me so deeply because it was a direct attack on my authentic self expression but more importantly an indictment on my character. Furthermore, insinuations of aspiring to whiteness for my interests and way of speaking made me retreat inward even more while feeling like I had to atone for my crime of being myself. So I spent years, on and off, attempting to contort myself into what I thought was the correct way to be Black according to my peer groups. It never worked for long and I ended up growing more confused and resentful. There is nothing wrong with checking yourself for what your actions and beliefs are rooted in but it should not come at the expense of your authentic sense of self.
At 24 I find myself combing the archives of my life for pieces of my real self that were lost to support the foundation the new and true version of me that I am building. I have many regrets and things I would give anything to do over and reverse but that is the past. I’m easing up on punishing myself for all the time I wasted especially in my college years. Maybe I never needed to punish myself in the first place. Maybe this was all apart of my journey in finding myself. It feels like defeat because of the toll it took on developing my confidence. In all honesty it’s been exhausting trying to rebuild something that was destroyed before it even had the chance to develop a solid foundation.
I mention this example not for sympathy but as a warning and affirmation for any young Black kid or anyone else who feels “tribeless”: stop wasting time trying to mold into an arbitrary ideal to fit within a collective and just be yourself. As long as you are not causing harm to anyone, who you truly are is just fine. It is then–when you fully and proudly embrace your authentic self– that you will find your “tribe”.
The Good Girl
Although I am still reading it, I recommend Breaking the Good Girl Myth by Majo Molfino if you’re finally fed up like me. This is about to be a long one as I have the most resentment towards the “good girl”.
So much of my life and sense of self has come from seeking approval pats on the head for being a “good girl”. Always striving to be perfect and do the “right” thing by others’ standards. Never wanting to rock the boat and always trying my best to keep the peace. Shunning my desires or at least tucking them away for those sweet, sweet moments of stolen joy where I am out of the white hot expecting gazes to be my full self. Saying “yes” when I mean “hell no” and saying “it’s okay” when I really want to say “fuck you and fuck off”. Shying away from my desired spotlight– rendering myself invisible– so I would appear “humble” and not full of myself. Always waiting my fucking turn and not just fucking taking it like everybody else. Taking the “high road” when I really should’ve chewed their asses out. Living out everyone else’s dreams before pursuing mine. Making myself the sacrifice when in all reality the world would have continued to spin and they would’ve gotten over it if I ended up choosing myself. All of it a massive waste of time.
Let’s focus on the idea of the “right” thing. What the hell even is that? I’ve come to realize there’s three answers to this question: there is the “right thing” by outsider standards, the “right thing for you“, and the “right thing by you“.
The first one is satisfying to others but does not guarantee satisfaction for you. It’s what they would do or want you to do. I don’t say this to demonize people who merely wish to help because it is up to you whether or not you follow their idealized path, however, always adhering to the outer collective’s idea of correctness will not ensure fulfillment. It barely guarantees the approval you seek.
The second one is pretty logical. It takes into account your specific situation and all the nuances that come with it. This interpretation says, “I’ve considered many different angles and here’s what I have decided to do…” Again, it’s practical and more recovering good girls should practice it. But much like the first interpretation it does not guarantee fulfillment or approval.
The third and final interpretation drops down to your heart, gut, and soul. Doing what is right for you satisfies your conflict on a material and cerebral level, however, doing what is right by you drives your decision home with conviction. Why? Because I have found the difference in the two interpretations to be a matter of choosing the right course of action for a particular situation and choosing yourself. And sometimes doing what’s right by you starts off as doing the right thing for you and vice versa.
Could I be farther along in my personal journey if I hadn’t spent so much time being a “good girl”? I believe so but who knows. The point is better late than never, I guess. Choosing to follow my wanderlust to South Korea, Germany, and San Antonio in the span of less than a year has not spurned any regret regarding my finances so my mother spoke. Moving half way across the country after so many of my elders implored that I stay home, save up and buy a house in good ole Michigan has been nothing short of beneficial. No one died when I asked my boss for some time off. My professional life has not suffered in the slightest since I’ve started publicly documenting my pole dancing journey.
My entire point is I’m done killing myself to be “good”. It’s time to not only do what is right for me but most importantly what is right by me.
The Strong Black Woman
I own the fact that I am very self sufficient and I like that about me. I like that I don’t feel the need to wait for someone to come with me before I go out and experience life and I love that there is always a pang of confidence in my gut that I can accomplish anything I so desire. What I resent as a waste of time is how this self sufficiency has developed over the years as the classic “strong Black woman” trope within me.
There is nothing wrong with being independent and self sufficient just as there is nothing wrong with accepting a helping hand. Being strong is great but so is embracing vulnerability. I did not get this way without some help through good old fashioned childhood traumas and general bad experiences I have done everything in my power to safeguard myself against. It’s human to want to protect yourself at all costs. It shows growth to learn from your mistakes and apply those new insights going forward but where does one draw the line between wisdom and nursing wounds?
Falling into this trope has left me wide open for the very toxicity I thought my bulletproof exterior would protect me from more often than not. This realization begs the questions: is it self sufficiency or am I scared to death of asking for help? Is it pragmatism or self sabotage? Is it weakness or authenticity? Why must I suffer before I am seen as worthy? To me that is the big money question because much like the good girl sacrifices herself for approval, so does the strong black woman. It’s almost the scars scattered across our hardened exteriors are worn like badges of honor to say “Look how much I went through! Am I finally worthy?” I’m not saying we asked for this but it was a mistake to make it seem aspirational.
Why do I feel like falling into this trope was a waste of time? Like I said before it has attracted more of what I don’t want than what I do. I actually end up ignoring my discernment in effort to prove a point. I push away people who may actually want to help as opposed to feeding off my efforts and energy. I refuse assistance I very much need because God forbid I don’t do something all by myself. It is incredibly and embarrassingly difficult for me to accept love that is gentle, safe and freely given (something I yearn for) because I don’t feel worthy enough unless I suffer first. At best I feel invisible and at worst I feel like a dumping ground.
I’ve made a great effort to ditch this label in the past year. While I love my independent spirit and work ethic, I have wasted too much time and energy on fruitless suffering.
She Was Here 
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