The Brothas Are Confused

We have told them to be tougher but when they become too tough, they are monsters to us and thugs to others so where do they go for comfort? Their mothers? The same mothers who hate their father and wishes death upon them in front of their sons and daughters? This may be a worst case scenario but it is one that I witness far too often in the streets of New Orleans. 

Surely these mothers love their sons despite what reminds them of their own lacking, embarrassment, injustice, resentment; the list of insecurities can shower us with negativity all day if we let it.

I ask black men around here, “How you feeling today?” and most times I experience immediate heartbreak from their responses. “Out here making it sis.” “Trying to get back on my feet, Queen. I just got out of jail and I can’t go back to my job and my baby mama is trippin’.” “I’d be doing better if I was going with you, beautiful.” 

The heartbreak happens when I hope more security for them but I soon realize that these brothers are blessed and highly favored, they just need a little direction. These black men deserve to live their best lives and we have a responsibility, as kin, to help them do so.

Here is what I have to say about being a black woman who has led black men astray: I apologize for putting my fear of you on display. 

The thing is, I’m of no use to you, your wellness, and strength if I have not tended to my own wellness and applied my own strength. Brotha, do you remember the time when we were separated? This is a question for your soul. Do you remember how it was when we were stolen, beaten, starved, forgotten, cursed, spit on, split up, raped, treated like scum? If you don’t remember, take a look around at the effects of that treatment. The trauma looks like the struggle we know so well today.

Imagine that, both of us hurting. Both of us crying and needing healing underneath. We’ve suppressed the way that we felt about all of this because we were convinced well enough to fear what would happen if we remain human, present, feeling, expressing. I’m sorry, for and to the both of us. I’m sorry for the hardships that hurt you but look how wise and strong it’s all made you. I’m sorry to your soul, I know you don’t need anymore. No more hurt for you, for me, it’s time to forgive hurt, then forgive pain, then forgive you, then forgive me. Forgiveness is the only way. 

         It’s interesting you know, the thoughts that try to take control of my mind as I reveal these expressions. I think of the people who will read this and call me weak and who will also call my brothers weak because “Get your shit together.” That sounds like that oppressive style of parenting that I mentioned earlier, mothers screaming, yelling, unhappy with children who were not born with adult responsbilities but have been made to feel that they have to carry so much weight. 

         The idea that an unhappy wife causes an unhappy life is too immature of a statement to still be relevant today. Let’s talk about why that statement holds truth. Let’s talk about the power of the womb, but in another blog post, on a different day. I would like for readers to sit with what I have said, maybe meditate on it, and give feedback if spirit guides you that way.