There was this time when I thought it would be a great idea to
move to New York. In my mind, I saw New York City. In my contract, the city
listed was located in upstate New York. I grew up in California so you probably
know where this is going, right?
Winter came. It never left.
So I got up outta there.
But before I left, I met my life partner. I know what you’re
thinking. I said I was single. Well, I am, because ain’t no flowers come for me
on Valentine’s Day. Think of it this way. He and I will absolutely get married
and have (adopt) babies for tax purposes. We have a wonderful relationship with each other and we
prefer to have our relations with other people. This is the only open type of
commitment I would accept - one with him exactly as I described.
So there was this one day we were at work and I was having the
worst day. I could not figure out why I was in such a foul mood. This was
beyond my normal woman issues, petty issues, or hunger issues. I gave him a
call to figure out what was going on with me, because in (un)healthy relationships, your partner often knows you better than
you know yourself. The diagnosis?
We
shouldn’t have watched A Time To Kill last night…
He right. The bruised, beaten, and battered blood of the ancestors
was boiling in my blood all-the-day long. It simmered in my soul while I slept the evening prior.
I mean every person who didn’t look like me just...well, I just could not even.
Even over the phone. It was like, why are you even calling me? Sure I’m the person responsible for
that task and you are required to speak to me about it, but you need to gone
away from me with that right now Paul.
So before Evelyn from the Internets gave calling
in black a name to the
prescription to watching A Time To Kill the night before work,
that’s really what I needed to do. I needed time to be Black in a safe space
because we know that being Black at work isn’t always safe (like well, just being Black wherever you are because, well, you
know…listen to Evelyn).
It just so happens that in some Last Week Tonight marco polo news, Jigs was in a staff meeting feeling like LeBron,
but left the meeting sick of they ish like Rajon. LeBron was you sitting at the end of the conference room table with a few empty seats between you and everyone else because you have a "cough" trying to disguise your whole attitude as a partial sinus issue ... Rajon is you basically going to another team meeting because, just no, God, please no. Rajon Rondo is me, is you, he is all of us mapping out the route to California Pizza Kitchen for an afternoon cocktail just *clap* as *clap* soon *clap* as the meeting ends. Have you ever been in a meeting, being the only kind
of person that looks like you, and seeing it as a perfect opportunity to
reclaim the dignity stripped away from your Great Uncles and Aunties at the
hands of jim(bob)crow? Well, there we find Jigs.
It just so happens the film review was about The Help. I can’t even. A group of non black women sitting around a
conference table talking about how wonderful a movie was, centered around the
life of Jig’s great grandmother likely cleaning the floors and nursing the
babies of the people that eventually birthed the people that birthed them. You
know how they do – like ole girl on the streets of San Francisco – they say they loved the movie because it’s about black people,
but somehow they totally get how awful that time was and how terribly black
people were being treated. It’s totes wrong, like OMG, soooo terrible. But they did a
wonderful job on the movie. Also, I did not vote for Trump.
...then they reach a hand out towards your fresh twist out without
even asking. They mispronounce your name though you put a phonetic
pronunciation in your email signature six years ago. But that’s not the worst
of it. They actually treat you like, well, the *&^%^ &^^% %#&## help! Sure
you’re not in the office Viola stomping back and
forth from the fax machine, but they’re part reason that the Eff it, I’ll do it. - signed
Black Women, meme is a whole fact.
It just so happens that Jigs and I had a similar response to this
at-work experience.
We left. Ain’t nobody got time for that.
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