So once again I’ve been accused of trying to run away from blackness. Nothing new, folk have been hurling that one at me since I was a mere child. Somehow I’ve always known that the accusation was more about them and their issues than it was about me. After all, why would they care, and care enough to jump on me and bully me for years, if they weren’t the ones who felt there was something wrong with blackness? I’ve always been puzzled as to why they’re so convinced that blackness is something that anyone would want to run away from. Is it perhaps that they themselves would like to do so?
There are plenty of things I would like to run away from. Fatness would definitely be at the top of the list. But blackness? Nope, I rather like being black. I like the physical characteristics as well as the history and culture behind it. It’s part of the uniqueness that makes me who I am, and I wouldn’t change it, even if such a thing were possible.
Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t faze me. After all, I’m a grown woman and I’ve been hearing it all my life. But this time it came from someone who I thought frankly was above this level of ignorance. I never would’ve thought that this person suffered from the same inferiority issues as those kids did so long ago. Self-hatred is insidious and ugly, and to suddenly see it this way was shocking and painful.
In a way, I’m glad that this happened. It explains a lot of things that have puzzled me up to now, and I’ll be able to feed this person out of the same long-handled spoon that I reserve for such individuals. My mama always said that if you wait long enough the truth will be revealed. I’m glad that I’ve seen it, and am old enough now and have the maturity to handle it accordingly.