Ok, so we’re getting a helper/maid, but that’ll be the last time I refer to her as such. My foreign domestic worker (FDW), which is the legal title of the position, will be called “Mae” for the purpose of this…
Pitcher 4- Apathy
*Strong language and content. For big Black Girls only.
When the “baddest bitch in the game” calls the baddest of all time on the tennis court to stop, drop, and twerk in a music video about giving absolutely no more “Starbursts,” you create quintessential “Black Girl Magic.” When I saw Serena Jameka Williams saunter down a flight of stairs in one of Beyonce’s uniforms, the majestic unitard (that has made its way into the wardrobe selection of many whose work does not require it), I knew I was about to get my whole black girl magical, rocking, SPEAKing life!
When they told us how “ain’t sorry” they were about checking out of a dead relationship and destroying random, meaningless tokens of no affection; when she cut us with the words ,”so what are you going to say at my funeral now that you’ve killed me,” I knew they were describing the moment pass “pissivity” when the naive and angry woman dies and is being prepared for rebirth. This is the beginning of the period in the tomb where we meet our emotional demise; where there are no more tears to cry or lies to be reconciled. We are simply existing because we lack the resolve and cowardice to do otherwise. This is “Apathy.”
-Black Girl, T. Anyabwelé
“Do you know how many women would love to live in a house like this?”
“[You are] not as beautiful as when we got married.”
“She is everything that I want in a woman…she’s a glamour girl, she has a job…”
These were some of the emotionally abusing “drugs” delivered by my narcissist “dope” man, my ex-husband. Each “hit” making me more desensitized than the last. He sought to do and say anything that would emotionally cremate me “ashes to ashes…”. As he left a trail of “dust to [his] side chicks [and possible dicks]”…”Sorry, I ain’t sorry”.
This was the perfect foreshadowing for the coming day that I realized that 14 years, four kids and my sacrificed career to be a stay-at-home mom in support of my frequently traveling husband would lead me to complete “Apathy.” I had to be honest and acknowledge my apathetic self began when I was a child. Being a daddy-less daughter leaves its voids. This was, after all, what made me perfect prey for this “dealer.” Consequently, there I was 14 years later, completely emotionally disabled.
My acceptance of my role in his betrayal and abuse was my weapon to commit emotional suicide to “The Stepford Wife” illusions and false realities that held my current happiness. This awakened me to the darkness caused by my denial. Not just my denial to remain in a relationship with him but my denial to walk in my greatness, which I was not ready to do. So, I chose my deliverance into the paradise of apathy. This paradise kept me void of the interest to maintain an image and perception of my life.
My apathy had a soundtrack of thoughts like: What the heck was I doing that for? Why was I holding so tight to this piece of barbed wire? Why don’t I feel happy anymore in the grocery store and kitchen? What happened to the attention seeking moments that began with me kissing him to get a kiss, hugging him to get a hug, and stating “Honey, whatever you like”? What happened to his interest being my sole interest? Apathy happened; causing demotivation and lack of interest in many of my perceived and chosen interests in life. Amazing how I allowed a man’s presence and absence to remove my appetite for life.
Apathy made me care less if I cooked another meal in my life. Apathy resulted in me wondering why I was in the club sipping on a horrible azz drink. Apathy made me lose interest in truly understanding how my self-apathy and insecurities allowed me to choose this man, with all of his obvious character flaws, to create a family.
“I ain’t sorry” for the creation of the apathy that protected me from the insanity that would have led me to an asylum and left my children emotionally homeless. Apathy saved my life. Apathy gave my anxiety a rest. My desire, passion, and complete submission for the man that I worshipped was gone and replaced with a “Boy, bye attitude”.
Although four years later, I am divorced and still have no interest in cooking or cleaning (Thank you, Cleaning Goddess), “I ain’t sorry” for apathy giving me a clean surface to build a new solid foundation for my children and I. Apathy gives one the neutral position to choose to be better or bitter. I chose better and I am so much BETTER because of it.
I am grateful for my ex surprisingly placing me in the beauty pageant with his many “Becky” type behaviors. But I am more grateful for the following apathy that took away my interest in wanting a life that was beneath my level of vibration.
Until the conversation about each of the phases is complete, you’ll hear the voices of various contributors who will dissect the recently released, updated Black Woman Manifesto: “Lemonade.” This post is specifically about “Apathy.” Some of the contributors have chosen to use a pseudonym. Others have chosen to submit inspired works of fiction. If any name used reflects that of someone in reality, it is only by coincidence. Read all other posts at www.blackgirlspeaks.me .