What The Hell Are You On About?

I have always been made brutally aware of how I look and how much space I take up. From an early age, I would be taunted for my widened belly, dark skin, and braided hair, but always praised for my silence, attention, and “proper” speaking. Within that, I was taught to internalize these statements, and I unfortunately projected them. It was what I thought was right and wrong, and in being a child, I wanted nothing more than to be virtuous. So that’s what I did, I told myself loud was wrong, small was right, and obedience is everything. That internalized hatred festered within me so much that just my reflection could bring me to tears. As life went on, I learned to expect to be deemed stupid, incapable, and a waste of space. I learned to make myself smaller, hunching my shoulders, not eating in front of people, never looking anyone in the eye, you know, the whole shabang. It wasn’t until 13, the first time i realized that all I have is myself in the world, so why spend so much time hating it?  Why was I made to think these things? Who fed these ideas to me? No other than the people who wanted me to remain docile. They knew that if I unlocked my mind and started thinking I could be more, I would be more. Nothing is worse than a woman, let alone a black woman, with a voice. No one wants people to expose how there are still confederates in the white house and Nazis running the polls, never. So what do they do instead? Pump the media full of slim bodies, obedient wives, and diet pills, give people A LOT of small issues to deal with, so we forget the big ones. Much like how Charlie Kirk gets shot and all of a sudden everyone forgets about Epstein, one small assertion to distract from the life-changing facts. As a matter of fact, I didn’t take up ENOUGH space, and I was TOO silent. So while you are busy judging people on their looks, or hair, or whether or not they lost the 3 pounds they were supposed to, while our nation is literally on fire, I ask you:  What The Hell Are You On About?

woman looking at her sad eye in a broken mirror
Photo by Ismael Sanchez on Pexels.com

Huzzah!!!

Another year, another turkey leg at the annual Renaissance festival.  These types of festivals have always been dear to me- it’s served as a great source of entertainment and escape.  For those of you that don’t already know, Renaissance festivals are a unique gateway to another realm- a portal that transports its participants to a time period complete with medieval costumes, games, merchandise and food (lots of food).  Customers are encouraged to be themselves and dress up according to the time period-it’s a day to shed whatever rules and regulations the outside world requires and to eat, drink and be merry in a safe atmosphere void of judgment.  I know this world well, this is my thirteenth year attending.  Continue reading