To be a Flower in This Dumpster Fire.

Being a black woman in America gives me an interesting perspective on life, love, and fashion. Often presented as an intangible desire that dangles in front of us like a carrot on an ever-moving stick. The backlash black women receive for even craving the sweet taste of comfort and peace is often harsh. 

The abusers have no face; they transcend race, gender, age, and creed. However, they continue to uphold the notion that black women do not deserve emotions. The ideology that we are threatening when we express anger, sadness, or fear has never sat right with me. At moments, it calloused me. causing me to retreat into a reactive and isolating labyrinth of my own creation.  I never thought I would credit a deplorable man such as Donald Trump as the pivotal point when I decided, rather my body decided, that the facade to being indifferent was over. 

 My Ancestors ingrained in me the need to present myself in a perfect image. They implied our linage held the responsibility of being a polished and educated women. My family emphasized that by denying my emotions, I was, in some way, helping society. I realize now that it was simply conditioning to convince me not to take up space. Not to pay attention to my intuition and, more importantly, not to rest. However, once the election confetti had cleared and the results came in, America, completely debunked the concept that our proximity to perfection would somehow save us. It was at that moment that I realized that I was a flower, surviving in this dumpster fire we call the world.

 I sat with the gravity of what just happened. America chose, once again, a deplorable man over a “respectable” Black Woman. A woman who did everything right. Kamala has the education, decorum, charisma, and complexion of what America told black women to be. The ideal candidate was still not enough to encourage a nation to want change. She and every other black woman's body was not enough. 

Although disappointed, I, like many others, were not surprised. America has continued to be the chopping block in which people are butchered. Butchered mentally, physically, and financially. The chains never loosened; they just camouflaged themselves behind disheveled masks. They created a beautiful narrative that only fools would fall for. They sold the concept of hate.

 The puppeteers told people to laugh when generations of black and brown communities were incarcerated or slaughtered on the street. To call the new generation “weak,” even though due to gun violence, they’ve never known a moment of peace. To say “she wanted it” or “what was she wearing” because the idea that Americans’ raise immoral sons is just too much for society’s ego. And let’s not forget that Trans people “deserve what happens to them” because they’re “unnatural” and although their Christian God makes “no mistakes” their life is somehow an error. 

We as Americans are exactly where we are supposed to be. This dumpster fire is simply the cultivation of hate, jealousy, and rage. We created this labyrinth every time we engaged in dangerous rhetoric such as (but not exclusive to): Racism, sexism, misogynoir, classism, elitism, eugenics, fataphobia, transaphobia, homophobia, xenophobia, and religiophobia. Enabling “friends” to degrade others without a hint of corrective behavior allowed one's ego to flourish at the expense of another’s life. 

*The “we” is used to emphasize how, as a society, we all can do better, not to imply that individually we have all participated in these constructs.