I’ve since grown up, and the ways I used to think, I don’t anymore. I’ve also started to think in ways I didn’t before. I don’t limit myself to fiction only, but when you see topics like “Black Women are the ugliest women on the Planet.” You can’t help but wonder why someone would believe something like this.
Then you read some more
And some more
And more.
And your thinking starts to evolve. I find myself analyzing things more, things not only related to race but things not related to race. Like gender for example. I find myself crying more, because I've been tainted with these thoughts. I cry more because I know not every black person will be as strong as I have been.
But then I grew some more, and all this knowledge I’ve gained seems like I’ve deliberately impaled myself with nails. Each nail standing for the things I’ve learned that hurts me. And people who aren’t black don’t realize that we –black people- have to live with this for the rest of our lives.
I have to live my life repeating to myself that I have to be strong. People will hate me, look over me, discriminate against me, hurt me, for nothing at all, except for something I can’t control.
This is the price of gaining knowledge; it’s the price of not being ignorant to race issues; especially being black. I don’t hate myself anymore. But I’m still learning to love myself. I have to love myself. For my fellow black people, for my friends, and for my children (I hope). The world does not love me, and probably will never love me. So I must love myself, if I can’t, then I must try.
Rest in Peace Karyn Washington.
