Not for the first time, I recently bumped into a female I hadn’t seen in a while, and as was typical, she was no longer slim. In fact, far from it, but with justification; she was a mother, and yet, the last time I saw her she was also a mother, so what changed? Maybe “motherhood” was setting in, and she could no longer afford to exhaust herself trying to maintain a standard of “vanity”, or perhaps she tried to fight her situation, but got so stressed out from trying to deal with it, that weight-gain was the natural response. Maybe neither of these is correct and I am making a “big” deal or something (formerly) small? I do not think I am as I have heard other mothers in my “family” – having experienced similar “transitions” – claiming that they need to sort out their weight, i.e. sign up to a gym. Clearly, these females are as conscious of their “looks” (appearance) as I am, but why? Is it because they yearn for that youth surrendered to their children? Is it because they are still struggling with their personal deficiencies created by a terroristic system of white domination which denigrates their very existence? Is it because they still desire to be desired so as to compensate for the emptiness which brutalises them inside? I don’t know, however, I do sense that these females are not happy with how they “let themselves go” and yet, who is to “blame.” To begin with, I do not think that they are even responsible for the apparent loss of control, as I doubt they were ever in control of their lives to begin with. I imagine that they were comfortably placed in the illusion that they could control their lives, and in particular, their image, and yet, with the arrival of children, and with this, the subsequent taxing of their resources, their fantasies came undone. Struggling to balance their freshly chaotic lives, maybe these females suddenly realised how impotent they were, and in the wake of this realisation, surrendered and collapsed.
Although I speak vaguely, in truth, I am only referring to four females. The first one mentioned is still with the baby father; as for two of the others, I do not know where the fathers are and have never seen them, although I am led to believe that one still has contact. Meanwhile, the fourth female is no longer with her boyfriend; however, they did not have a child together. At the same time, what links these females is that they are no longer their former selves, if at all I can be inconsiderate enough to make this pretentious assertion. I look at these females and I pity them because I can imagine the stress they endure, and yet, as a male, I struggle to relate. Notwithstanding these people closer to home, I see black females as objects; as depersonalised bodies. Furthermore, I tend to view all blacks with contempt in the firt place, and so, if by chance part of the stress these females might have endured was father-related, I am not moved. Even if closer to home, I would not overlook the possibility that they too were enticed by “bad-boys”, but later “betrayed” by reality, and the fact that they are as disposable as their cosmetics. Even if assuming a level of insight in relation to these females, I am not doing this with others as commonly I encounter baby-mothers who are enthralled by the “thug” posturing. These are females who overlook apparent “criminality” for the sake of “security” (stability), and so, will tolerate the dealing so long as its accompanied by driving. Again, I do not “blame” them, but simply pity them, as I can make sense of the mentality. Out here, apart from the university dreamers who will tolerate present impoverishment for the dream of future rainbows, who is doing anything? If honest, I feel most of us want out of this black thing, and indeed, as jungle fever breaks out and hits the high streets, many even demonstrate this desire. Of course, the Team has locked up all the resources and in doing that, locked us out with the result being that we are materially impoverished and reluctantly dependent on them to provide the very basis for our existence. Faced with these circumstances, who in their “white” mind wouldn’t “betray” the race/cause and opt out of a life of squalor, shame and mediocrity.
I no longer look at “compromised” others as being “sell-outs” and this goes for the invisible ones who work in-the-city, and give those “favours”, riding wood to climb the ladder. The way we are designed, we HAVE to have contempt for each other, and live lives of mere pleasantries which conceal the pain. Secretly we yearn to escape, and even if we may not admit it, we might just leap at that chance to “get away” as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Even if vaguely aware of “inequality” many of us ignore this “talk” as it doesn’t pay. As KGR shared with us much earlier, only “crime pays” and so, if you’re not caught in some hustle, we ask, what are you doing but dying? Even those who mingle with “the struggle” eventually retreat from it, realising that much of it is a joke. In the end, returning to “reality”, these people resort to putting food on the table and get “real” jobs. These people give up on searching for the “queens” with “naturals” and settle with “hoodrats” with “weaves” or “hoodlums” with “records.” (Even then, these apparent partners might even still creep out to get some of the “soothing lotion.” They need to test and tease to prove to themselves that they still have value.) These people turn from freedom-fighting to family-feeding, and yet, why am I yet to make the transition? Firstly, since May 2004, I have endured a life rife with instability, and in the words of Onyx, circumstances have ensured I “never settle.” I am not even sure of how to relate to females in terms of a long-term “process.” To begin with, I cannot even take black females seriously as I “know what they’re about.” I see blackness as synonymous with fraudulence, and seen as I am not in the business of competing with jokes, to be the king of clowns, I’d rather not engage in the challenge, and prefer to reject the offer. I have minimal interest in these females as I have absolute contempt for the “passivity” they represent, and the compromise they symbolise. Although the “concrete” circumstances of existence might “catch-up” to people, as far as I’m concerned, without challenging the very order which totally denigrates our existence, and turns-us-out, there is nothing worth bonding with or relating to. I agree with the Dean; these failures are whipped, and threw in the towel, and yet, I’d rather not. I’d rather die alone, even if it sounds like an unrealistic romantic or nostalgic idealistic, for in the words of J.D. Matthews, only through resistance can their life be worth living.