Let me make something very clear about my position in America as a black woman, mother, and wife. I will not tolerate any unjust acts of violence against my family in ANY way, shape, or form. I have the right to bear arms, and I have vowed to protect my family and myself. Now if any man or woman, of any color or any position, should pose as a direct threat, please understand that I will not hesitate to defend my family. So before you pull me over, you better make sure that I broke the law. Because at this point, I will not give you a chance to harm me. I will shoot first because of the innate fear you’ve placed in the heart of the black family. Please believe, we won’t be a hashtag. I’m tired of peaceful protests, and I’m ready to take action.
I am sick and tired of the same narrative playing out over and over again across this country. A black person is killed over cigarettes, a bag of skittles, for selling CDs, etc., and the murderer walks. It grinds my gears that my father, a hardworking man who provides very well for his household, is followed home by the police because of the car he drives. They only leave him alone when the garage door opens up and they realize that he actually owns a home in that neighborhood.
I can’t believe you went back. I believe in love and making things work, but not when it comes to abuse. I would never encourage someone to make up with someone who was abusive. When I look at him, all I remember are the stories you told me. It’s like you created a monster and now you want me to pet it. It’s like you want me to pretend that he who was once a devil is now a saint. Pushing you down the stairs, punching you in the eye, and almost choking you to death. That’s a lot. More than I could ever forget.
I was your wife for almost fifteen years. Together we raised our boys and built a life that I THOUGHT was a happy one. I loved you with everything I had. Without even realizing it, I gave up my friends, my career, and even some of my family. You controlled EVERYTHING in our marriage and made ALL the decisions. You insisted that I quit my job, yet whenever I wanted something I was always told that we didn’t need it or that it was a waste of money. Meanwhile, you were able to buy anything you pleased. You valued the opinions of everyone else over mine. I was NEVER your first priority. Hell, most of the time I wasn’t your second or even your third priority for that matter.
For the longest time I thought that I loved you as more than a friend. And I was right about that, but not in the way that I thought. I loved you as an older brother and you could never see that. I’ve been there for you so much. Yet, you decide to stay in that same spot thinking that I’m the one who is so horrible. You think that I’m the one who made the problems or the mistakes, but it wasn’t just me, it was both of us.
Why do you hate me so much? You’ve suddenly become so unkind, unwelcoming, cold, and distant. Yet, you won’t grow balls big enough to tell me what’s wrong. We’ve been friends for a long time, and I cherish you and our friendship very much. I thought you felt the same way. After all, you’ve told me that you cherish me many times. But now your actions say otherwise.
Thing is, I told you that I was afraid of the sex hurting. Truth is, I never was. What I was afraid of, was it all being a lie. What I was afraid of, was losing you again. What I was afraid of, was having to sleep while crying because you left. What I was afraid of, was you not caring about me anymore. What I was afraid of, was not getting to feel your lips against mine again. What I was afraid of, was not leaving my phone in hope of you remembering me. What I was afraid of, was you not calling me “mine,” “beautiful,” or “babe,” like you used to. What I was afraid of, was not getting to feel happiness any longer. What I was afraid of, was not feeling special. I was afraid of living the rest of my life in the land of memories. Although, most of all, I was afraid because I knew that the scar you would leave would never heal.
I have a terrible relationship with one of my siblings. I am the youngest. I have three older sisters and one brother. I have a great relationship with my brother and one of my sisters (1). Sister (2) and I have a decent relationship. There’s eleven months between us, so yeah, we get into fights, but we love each other. Sister (3) is eight years older than me, and she constantly bullied me throughout my childhood. Our relationship has been more than what would be considered as normal sibling scraps and bullying. She has continuously hit, kicked, pushed, and slapped me. This went on well into my teen years.
I hate you. I hate that I’m pregnant with your child that you don’t even want me to have. I hate how you’ve taken over every little piece of my life where everything reminds me of you. I hate how you convinced me into almost having an abortion. I hate how I was still in love with you, only to show up at your house and see another girl there. I hate how I’m still in love with you. I hate how you made it look so easy to completely forget that you ever loved me. I hate that I think about not wanting to have this beautiful baby boy inside of me because I know that you’re not going to be there for him. I hate you.
You are a s**t mother. Five days before your daughter’s 16th birthday you got high and drunk. Like always, right? You then started physically abusing the girls. The neighbor kid recorded you doing this and then you started bearing on him too. What the f**k is wrong with you? You refuse to allow their biological father to be in their lives. You trash talk him so badly that his own kids hate him. Why? Because you’re afraid of losing your punching bags? You have those girls so brainwashed that they’re afraid of a better life.