There are some things I mull over like a dog reluctant to give up the frisbee she's been biting for 7 minutes. "But puppy, Charlie wants to play with the frisbee."
And puppy stubbornly bites harder, refusing to relinquish. The following is one of those things in my life. I should just let Charlie play with the damn frisbee, but I am stubborn. So I'll let you know when I become more refined and less dog-like. But until then...
It's like that scene from "Save the Last Dance" when Shanille rips on Sarah and says something to the effect of "open up your pretty blue eyes and look around you, Sarah." Sarah looks around the free clinic to look at all of the Black single mothers holding their crying babies with no Black men beside them, and Sarah, all the while, has Derek-the only Black man who seems to be doing something with his life in their neighborhood. And of course, he goes for the only white woman in an almost entirely Black community.
It's like when a suburban white girl cries about shit I think is trivial and everyone cancels plans for her and she's more than OK with their sacrifice. When she turns around so that I can see her puffed up face and go "awww....what happened?" Frankly, during times like that, I am not moved.
I am moved when a mother gives everything to buy her daughter a small cupcake for her birthday because that's all they can afford. I am moved when a Dominican family in bumfuck Dominican Republic living off of so little prepare a large meal for their American guests.
I am not moved, however, when you want the world to revolve around you. I am not moved when you say "I would be fine with living in poverty for the rest of my life" when you can't even begin to scratch the surface of what that even means or looks like. And I am definitely not moved when you have every support system in place, financial and emotional cushions and when you have the luxury of "rebelling" against your parents and yet still find reasons to try to get me to pity you.
In fact, I'm going to be honest here: I have little compassion for people who cry and complain when things get tough when at the same time they have looks, smarts, the favor of everyone in their path and a constant flow of affirmation. And do you know why? Because I don't have all of that all the time, and I don't have the support systems. I do not have the luxury of throwing a fit and asking people to forgo their plans for me. They will most likely respond, "Ok. Annery. We'll be back later. Call if you need anything!" No one planned my birthday. No one showers me with affirmation. And for certain, no one would do my homework should I be in a state of utter chaos.
I can't just become a barista if I want to because there is no one to rely on. When I'm broke I don't mean I have $600 in my savings account and a trust fund. I mean I have $0.53 in my savings account and -$2.00 in my checkings.
"No other assets?"
"Well...call your parents to see if you can borrow."
First of all, I'd never have to borrow money from my mother. She would gladly give me every penny she had at no cost. And secondly, I would never do that to her because I have more than she does. So, basically, all I have is me--whether I am crying in my bed at night or shivering with fear--ain't no one going to come to my rescue.
So when little suburban girls want me to pity them-I'm sorry. Ain't gonna happen.
And then I feel like a bitch. You see me with my neck roll, finger raised and scrunched eye brows next to poor white beauty with tears and a red nose. Who do you think looks more affable and approachable?
I am sorry that your life has been so tough, little white girl. Welcome to the fucking world.
Subscribe To
Posts
All Comments
Showing posts with label I'm pissed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I'm pissed. Show all posts
Friday, August 6, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Compassion for the powerful
You can make me small. You can make me cry. You can make me ball my eyes out. Of course, that wasn't your intention, however. I am your threat. Threatening to the columns that hold up your secure world. So you were just retaliating. Of course.
You expected me to come at you with yells and stones. But once you saw my tears you realized I'm weaker than you thought. And you smiled inside because you regained your power and acquired the ability to say, I can help you.
But once my tears are gone and I regain a sense of perspective. That I, in fact, am not doing poorly. That I, in fact, am not bad at what I do. And that you, in fact, are the very thing I learned about in college and in life: We belittle the people we serve. I get angry once I realize this. And I misunderstand you.
Because see, I was trained to understand the downtrodden. I was trained to understand the oppressed and vulnerable, even as they yell at me. But I don't know how to understand you when you stand over me with your power and make me feel small. How can I be compassionate towards those in power-at the top? They need it too. In fact, they might need it more.
Because the downtrodden know themselves. They know they are downtrodden. But the powerful are deceived: They are addicted to their own status and it fuels their identity. And if you ever told them this, they would roar at you from the well of their need for security. "DON'T YOU DARE CHALLENGE MY IDENTITY."
But how can I not? When the oppressed who are in their hands will be crushed by their need for affirmation? How horrible is it that their affirmation comes from the knowledge that those under them need them to survive?
O powerful one, you can let your guard down. You have value beyond the need others might have for you. Even if no one needed you, you are valuable. People would in fact love you even if they didn't need you. People would be empowered if they learned they didn't need you. And you might be empowered by believing that they can survive on their own. You will be free the second you are comfortable with your strengths and weaknesses and when you remain unthreatened by someone with a different perspective and with a different strength. Resist the temptation to capitulate on their weakness, realize the strength you have that they may not. And share with them, learn from them in a spirit of reciprocity.
I want you to know you can help me. But I want you to know that if I can ever help you, that's Ok and you'll still be amazing at what you do.
You expected me to come at you with yells and stones. But once you saw my tears you realized I'm weaker than you thought. And you smiled inside because you regained your power and acquired the ability to say, I can help you.
But once my tears are gone and I regain a sense of perspective. That I, in fact, am not doing poorly. That I, in fact, am not bad at what I do. And that you, in fact, are the very thing I learned about in college and in life: We belittle the people we serve. I get angry once I realize this. And I misunderstand you.
Because see, I was trained to understand the downtrodden. I was trained to understand the oppressed and vulnerable, even as they yell at me. But I don't know how to understand you when you stand over me with your power and make me feel small. How can I be compassionate towards those in power-at the top? They need it too. In fact, they might need it more.
Because the downtrodden know themselves. They know they are downtrodden. But the powerful are deceived: They are addicted to their own status and it fuels their identity. And if you ever told them this, they would roar at you from the well of their need for security. "DON'T YOU DARE CHALLENGE MY IDENTITY."
But how can I not? When the oppressed who are in their hands will be crushed by their need for affirmation? How horrible is it that their affirmation comes from the knowledge that those under them need them to survive?
O powerful one, you can let your guard down. You have value beyond the need others might have for you. Even if no one needed you, you are valuable. People would in fact love you even if they didn't need you. People would be empowered if they learned they didn't need you. And you might be empowered by believing that they can survive on their own. You will be free the second you are comfortable with your strengths and weaknesses and when you remain unthreatened by someone with a different perspective and with a different strength. Resist the temptation to capitulate on their weakness, realize the strength you have that they may not. And share with them, learn from them in a spirit of reciprocity.
I want you to know you can help me. But I want you to know that if I can ever help you, that's Ok and you'll still be amazing at what you do.
Social services
You're so good at what you do.
You even work beyond the hours that are required of you. Time. Efficiency.
You have all of this quantifiable data about how you help people. And you feel great.
But hold on, someone comes along, saying that this job is actually not about you. It's about the clients. Someone comes along and says, 'Oh yea, food stamps are important. But there's something else there that makes them need the food stamps in the first place." You help. But you let them know you are their helper. Without you they could do nothing. These people are disgusting to you. Oh yes they are. These persons with God-given talents and dignity are the ungrateful scum of the earth to you. Why they don't respond to your many calls? You hypothesize: It's because they're lazy. It's because they are ungrateful.
These people are survivors.
Their supposedly disgusting bathrooms are part your imagination and part a reflection of the sexual abuse that happened from the ages of 5-7. Their inability to get up in the morning is not laziness and cannot be explained away with "they just don't want to." It's a reflection of the fact that their mother never got up to take care of them, never made them the breakfasts that you got to enjoy. When you were thinking about Barbie Dolls and your greatest worry was whether you were going to get the toy you wanted at Christmas, they were in bed worrying about whether daddy was going to come wake them from their slumber by slapping them across the face when he came home drunk. You think you are such an expert on their lives? You've been working with "people like them" for a period of a year maybe, maybe two, for the last 5 years or so. They--they have been living their difficult lives for 20 + years. They are experts on themselves. Have you ever thought to ask them, Why? Why are you in shelter? Why are you here instead of in college? Why are you with that abusive boyfriend instead of with a man who will love you? Why are you in shelter instead of living in an apartment like mine? What is the difference between you and I?
You don't ask because you assume the answers to these questions. And they all culminate in theories of laziness and "because they don't want to."
But you're so good at what you do. You manage their lives like they could never imagine managing their own.
But that's part of the system, isn't it? Let's keep tossing them left overs of fish, while never teaching them that they have the potential to fishermen. That they have the potential to be fisherwomen.
You even work beyond the hours that are required of you. Time. Efficiency.
You have all of this quantifiable data about how you help people. And you feel great.
But hold on, someone comes along, saying that this job is actually not about you. It's about the clients. Someone comes along and says, 'Oh yea, food stamps are important. But there's something else there that makes them need the food stamps in the first place." You help. But you let them know you are their helper. Without you they could do nothing. These people are disgusting to you. Oh yes they are. These persons with God-given talents and dignity are the ungrateful scum of the earth to you. Why they don't respond to your many calls? You hypothesize: It's because they're lazy. It's because they are ungrateful.
These people are survivors.
Their supposedly disgusting bathrooms are part your imagination and part a reflection of the sexual abuse that happened from the ages of 5-7. Their inability to get up in the morning is not laziness and cannot be explained away with "they just don't want to." It's a reflection of the fact that their mother never got up to take care of them, never made them the breakfasts that you got to enjoy. When you were thinking about Barbie Dolls and your greatest worry was whether you were going to get the toy you wanted at Christmas, they were in bed worrying about whether daddy was going to come wake them from their slumber by slapping them across the face when he came home drunk. You think you are such an expert on their lives? You've been working with "people like them" for a period of a year maybe, maybe two, for the last 5 years or so. They--they have been living their difficult lives for 20 + years. They are experts on themselves. Have you ever thought to ask them, Why? Why are you in shelter? Why are you here instead of in college? Why are you with that abusive boyfriend instead of with a man who will love you? Why are you in shelter instead of living in an apartment like mine? What is the difference between you and I?
You don't ask because you assume the answers to these questions. And they all culminate in theories of laziness and "because they don't want to."
But you're so good at what you do. You manage their lives like they could never imagine managing their own.
But that's part of the system, isn't it? Let's keep tossing them left overs of fish, while never teaching them that they have the potential to fishermen. That they have the potential to be fisherwomen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)