Unaltered Voices

  I understand that we have done things a certain way for so long; a different direction scares the life out of us. As cliché as it sounds, there is no way to get a different result doing the same thing. I came to realize this. I judged my life and the circles I was going in. I could pinpoint when I would be up, and the moment I would sink, year after year. Then one year, I decided to break the cycle. I did not care what anyone thought about what I was doing or my investments; I did what I needed to for myself. You will have to get to that point also if you want what you want. I had to make one of two choices, give up or fight. Too often, we choose to give up rather than fight for who we desire to be. During the process, I learned I had to do it solo. There was no tribe initially; I, myself, and my will to want better for my life. Don’t get me wrong, I grew upset when there was no support, but I could not blame anyone for not believing in me if I had no hope in myself. We can only expe

  Are you aware of the chatter? It’s heard loud and clear; secret thoughts are no longer private anymore. Like a car depreciating as it exits the car lot, single mothers are made to feel this way for giving life. I found that women with husbands are belittling us just as much as men are. Do we do anything right? I use to wonder why there was such a great fear behind being a single mother. Some would have rather died than to be marked with those scarlet letters. Many did not make it because bringing them forth was not an option due to the stigma.   Single mothers are targeted and verbally destroyed. And by all means, don’t be a black single mother, double whammy! Black women experience demonization for having children out of wedlock and for being a black woman. It is not enough that our menstrual is considered a curse; let’s take it a step further and apply that to our existence.   Did you hear about the law passed to wear the hair growing from our scalp freely; then we have to listen

Why is my strength determined by how much you put me through? Did you watch your mom break time and time again only to embrace him once again? Was that strength to you? How many times must I cry a river and torpedo inside? I am vital to you because you cheated, and I took you back. I am capable of you because I raised our child in lack. I am stable to you because you deliberately abused me psychologically, and I did not break. You don’t see the damage as I have learned to pretend well. Maybe my ability to act is a strength. When will my strength be measured by my success and not my pain? You don’t understand how many times I wanted to take the easy way out. How many times I stood over you as you slept, wanting to put your lights out. How many times I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t say goodbye. That does not mean I am strong; it is a weakness. But your mother did it, you say. When will you admit you despise her? She distorted your view of all women; you have convinced yourself otherw