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5 Reasons Why #BodyGoals Can Never Be Body Positive

Why tagging your fave’s pic as #goals may actually be problematic and harmful to your self-image

Having goals is always a good thing, right? Goals mark a desire for self-improvement and suggest a level of self-awareness and agency that is necessary in success-driven adulthood. That being said, many of us may recall that the latter half of 2015 was met with many feminist critiques of #SquadGoals as it mostly pertained to Taylor Swift’s exclusive army of her famous female friends. The problem with #goals begins when goals are based on appearances and you think critically of what is being placed as the juxtaposition to such ideals.

By now #BodyGoals has been a trending tag for a while, re-surging in popularity every time Kim Kardashian posts a nude selfie or after Teyana Taylor’s groundbreaking performance in Kanye West’s “Fade” music video debut at the 2016 VMA’s. Something about the hashtag always made me cringe but I did not know how to approach the subject, not even with my friends. I once asked them “What does that mean? What does it mean for someone’s body to be goals?” It felt like a really stupid question to ask but a part of me just felt like I needed to talk about it aloud. I was met with mostly confused looks, as I predicted, but one of my friends turned to me and said simply, “It means body goals, it means I want my body to look like hers.”

My friend’s response took me back to where I was in my first year of college, scrolling through Tumblr at 3 am past images of sad-looking emaciated women who had decided to share their suffering with other people online to “inspire” us to take the route they’ve chosen to take with their body image or succumb to their eating disorders in hopes of achieving and/or maintaining our collective #goal, to be skinny. Once I drew this parallel it was easier for me to recognize why hearing other people’s #BodyGoals always made me cringe and why it never has been nor ever will be body positive.

  1. #BodyGoals is the new #Thinspo

Yes, there are some stark differences between #BodyGoals and #Thinspo like for one #BodyGoals does not suggest any dangerous practices or self-harm to achieve such goals and #BodyGoals don’t necessarily have to denote someone thin. Ashley Graham has been tagged repeatedly as many women’s #goals, especially this year and last year as she’s reached a heightened level of visibility and has achieved so many accolades that no size 16 woman ever has before. However, I still do not count this as a victory and I don’t think Ashley Graham would either. Most plus-size models and bloggers identify as being body positive advocates, meaning they want to eradicate the standard, not replace it. Many people may think that wanting to look like Ashley Graham is automatically body positive, not considering that someone who’s a size 20 wanting to be a size 16 is not much different than someone who is a size 8 wanting to be a size 4. It’s true that there is a motley of ideal body types being promoted at the moment rather than just one, but promoting multiple ideals is very different from promoting body acceptance. #BodyGoals, just like #Thinspo and #Fitspo, is just a way to get images of socially accepted ideals in one place and promotes longing and personal dissatisfaction with our bodies in order to essentially torture ourselves because we don’t look the way society says we should look or refuse to love ourselves until we achieve said goals.

  1. #BodyGoals implies your body needs improvement

From reading my previous point you may think that I believe it’s wrong for people to want to improve their bodies. The question is, what qualifies as an improvement? Flat stomach? Six-pack abs? Wider hips? Being toned? Augmented breasts? Smaller thighs? Bigger butt? Does that mean that people who have these qualities have better bodies than those who don’t? Does that mean if you don’t have these qualities your body will always be a work in progress or a problem to be solved? How can that be body positive? #BodyGoals implies that some bodies are better than other bodies and some bodies are #goals and others need to be focused on becoming those goals.

Don’t get me wrong, it is okay to want to change your body to look a way in which you feel you could navigate space more comfortably or even just for fashion or aesthetics. It’s your body and you can do whatever you want with it. If your definition of #BodyGoals are a picture of a celeb that you’re going to show to your plastic surgeon to describe what you want done, that’s perfectly okay. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to change your body, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to look different than you do naturally. The problem is the language often surrounding these changes that places body types in a hierarchy, where there is a 1% of body types that the 99% should be striving towards.

  1. #BodyGoals promotes diet culture and diet culture is not body positive

One of my fave bloggers, Corissa Enneking of @fatgirlflow recently faced an immense amount of internet backlash for posting a video declaring that dieting is not body positive and because her stance is so nuanced, many people could not understand her firm stance against it. Still, whether or not you agree with her declaration, it is clear to see why at least diet culture cannot be body positive. Diet culture essentially describes how the multi-million dollar dieting industry manipulates us into thinking that thinness is equivalent to being a happy, healthy, and productive members of society, even though dieting has often been proven to be unhealthy and counter-intuitive for several reasons, and being fat is a crime. #BodyGoals is diet culture’s new hot hashtag. Images of celebrities and athletes in combination with this tag is free advertising for all types of diet and weight-loss medications and regimens – the promise of being happier, loved, and accepted written as a fine print no-money-back guarantee in each caption section.

  1. #BodyGoals =/= health goals

“But what about being healthy?” a mysterious voice from out of the blue always asks. Not to trivialize the importance of physical health, but let’s be honest, most people only want to stress being healthy when it comes to fat people. There is no way that #BodyGoals can be used to describe someone’s goals for becoming healthier because healthy is not a body type. You can be a vegan and be a size 22, you can be a size 14 yoga instructor, you can be a size 2 and eat a diet of strictly Taco Bell, your size is not an indication of your health – period. When we equate the way someone’s body looks with how healthy someone is, it creates room for ignorance in the name of health promotion, aka “concern trolling”, that is used to perpetuate fatphobia and further marginalize fat people in society.

  1. #BodyGoals places too much emphasis on outward appearances

Your body is a vessel not an accomplishment or a goal. Your body is what you use to accomplish your goals. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look good and loving the way you look is essential to many aspects of your life, but the purpose of body positivity is to no longer be bogged down by society’s expectations of our appearances to the point that it detracts from what you have to offer as a person, aside from the necessary dismantling of capitalistic, patriarchal, cis- and heteronormative, ableist, and white supremacist beauty standards. We shouldn’t have to squeeze into a mold in order for us to be taken seriously or accepted. Our looks do not determine our value or whether or not we deserve respect. Our goals should pertain to character development, success in our careers, relationships with loved ones, community outreach, charity and organization, and so on. So, I propose that in 2017 we set more meaningful goals that are a lot less problematic.

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I never did

I never did the whole

Pre-teen romance thing

The whole holding hands between classes and

Sitting together during lunch to mean it was official

I’ve officially skipped a lot of important steps in my life

The same way my mother used to skip steps when she relaxed my hair

She somehow didn’t think it was important to do the leave-in conditioner

Still, she left in conditioner every time she ran her fingers through my head

“Don’t mess around with boys” she said

I surely didn’t mess around with her warning

I was ready for the boys to come; I was ready to defend my “purity”

But the boys never came

Until one day one did

 

I never did the whole teen romance thing

The whole getting ready for your first date with your best friend

Sneaking in a goodnight kiss before your parent’s curfew

Instead I was in college, sneaking into the movies with a guy I met on Tinder

He spit while he spoke and pontificated everything

After the movie we sat for dinner in a Subway

On the subway ride home I tried profusely to wipe off the kiss he forced on my cheek

But one day, years later, a boy asked me if he could kiss me

And I told him it was weird if he asked

But it wouldn’t have been weird if I was used to it

 

I never did the whole relationship thing

The whole transition from liking someone from afar

To being up close and personal

Getting to know someone; getting to trust someone

I trusted that it would happen for me someday

As I wrote unrequited love poems in the pre-adolescent pages of my diary

But adolescence had produced no changes but my body

Changes that caused I eyes to wander and hands to misbehave

But no love notes, no courtship, no chains with his initials to wear around my neck

And changes chained me to insecurities of perceived impurities I could not shake

I shook my head no when I said “I don’t know”

But what I didn’t know could still hurt me

 

I never did the whole world-changing first time thing

The whole anticipation and waiting and falling in love

The whole, “I’m finally ready to take the next step”

I stepped into a situation, very adult and very direct

I don’t think it was butterflies I felt

Beer just doesn’t sit well in my stomach

And we didn’t sit on the bed for very long until he began to kiss me

I wanted to kiss goodbye diary-keeping adolescent me

The me who never gets the guy could finally get something

I thought I would be sure when the moment came

But I said “I don’t know” and he did anyway

 

I never did the whole, waiting by the phone the next day for him to call thing

I never did the whole crying when he didn’t thing

I never did the whole falling in love thing

I never  did anything but lay there.

I laid out in my head the events of the previous night but my memories needed more coercion than I had needed to change my mind

I changed my mind. I said, “I don’t know”, but I changed my mind.

I undressed myself before and I kissed him goodnight after

I went back the next day, because if my mind was made up now, it must’ve been then too

I went back to say what I didn’t say the first time

Because of all the “I never did”‘s that were going through my head

The most important thing I never did was say “yes”

-Chido

What Is Beauty? – It’s a Status: it’s Reaction and it’s Interaction

In trying to figure out exactly what beauty is, I found that first I needed to understand who it was for. All roads seemed to lead to an external confirmation of the outward expressions of oneself. Everything from beauty pageants to the show “Ugly Betty” alluded to the idea that our societal working definition of beauty, however vague, cannot be defined internally. You can’t be beautiful unless some else thinks you are. More than that, it’s not enough for it to just be known; beauty must be stated or reacted to in order to exist.

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A. So say others think I’m beautiful but I myself don’t agree. People smile wider when they see me, people go out of their way to make me more comfortable, people take every opportunity they get to offer their confirmations of the success of my physicality. Does the beauty exist then? And now since I’ve experienced what it’s like to move through space with the social status classified as beauty, what then? Most likely I will enjoy how it feels to be treated with an elevated regard from others. I will probably enjoy the compliments and in turn make an effort to maintain those features that garner those compliments, I may even make efforts to “fix” everything else so that other features will also become compliment-worthy. Now I start to second-guess why I did not think I was beautiful in the first place – only sometimes. For the most part I still maintain that I am nothing more than a vessel for improvement and each improvement I make provokes more and more positive reactions. These positive reactions give me confidence to approach and be approached because I have repeatedly received confirmation of my social status from others. Now something happens. I get sick, I oversleep, I’m stressed to the point of visible deterioration – something happens that makes it so my outwardness is below the usual standard I hold myself to, it may even still be above the standard of my former unimproved self, but whatever the case may be, it is a deviation. Just as quickly the warmness fades, the smiles disintegrate, compliments are replaced by others scrambling to offer excuses for appearing as less than the usual beautiful person that they have come to expect, if not require. It’s almost as if I have offended people in some way. It is like having a warm blanket ripped of my arms on the coldest day of the year. I never want to commit this transgression ever again, I just want my blanket back. So I recover or reemploy whatever regimens it takes to return to my former version of a version of myself. Without this I do not feel whole and I do not feel safe; I’m either vulnerable to the crisp chill of the world or a slave to the word “beauty”.tumblr_mxrgypYMVa1qlsrn9o1_500.gif

B. Now, say I think I am ugly. Others do not react to me accordingly. I get an average amount of compliments and nothing said or done to the contrary. I still think I am ugly. I see no room for improvement and so I do not try to improve. No one is bothered because the little I do is acceptable to them. They may even envy the obvious effortlessness, I may even receive even more praise because of this. The fact that I do not agree with them is not out of the ordinary, I may even be praised more because of my modesty. All the while my view of myself remains unaffected, but I still move through space socially classified as beautiful and possibly proceed as in A.

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C. Say I believe I am ugly and others believe so as well. There is no warmness, no smiles, no compliments and I am well aware of the reason why. Others write me off as inwardly unpleasant and unapproachable because that is how they’ve deemed my outward appearance. I’m greeted by unpleasant looks when approaching others. I see the familiar looks ranging from disgust to indifference whenever I walk into a room. Now when meeting new people, I anticipate them not wanting to be around me for very long. I do not look into mirrors for very long. I fear that when others are whispering around me that it is actually me they are whispering about. Even if someone does say something positive about my looks I do not believe them; I think they are lying to make me feel better, or worse, poking fun at my unsightliness at my expense. All social interactions begin to feel like this regarding other aspects as well. It’s possible that I choose a likable aspect of my personality to over-compensate for what I lack appearance-wise and play out that caricature of myself like a theater puppet in order to feel comfortable in social situations. It is possible that I have endured so much mistreatment because of undesirable appearance that I have become aggressive as a defense mechanism. I greet others with all the hostility I expect to receive so that instead of allowing others to find me unpleasant because of my appearance, they find me unpleasant because of my sourness. It is also possible that I detract myself from social situations altogether, wanting to be myself but not finding many who are interested in myself if my visible self is not appealing. And so I have two choices: strive to present a better physical self in order to gain enough approval to be my internal self and proceed as in A. or become a socially detached or overcompensating slave to the word “ugly”.

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D. Now let’s say that I think I’m beautiful, and no one else thinks so. Then what? If no one ever calls me pretty, if no one ever compliments me in any way, if no one ever acknowledges my outward self as something even slightly pleasing to be in the presence of, does that self-proclaimed beauty exist? Am I allowed to claim that status in society if I am not reacted to as a holder of that status? Is it enough for me to award myself the title being beautiful but to not experience the privileges that it would otherwise entail? In some ways it is because I am not deemed beautiful socially that allows me to be unconditionally beautiful in my own opinion; my beauty is contingent on a knowing and a feeling that is internally self-actualized. Still, on some level I am forced to be aware that my status as I move through space is less than that of someone who is considered beautiful because others react to me that way, but still, I choose to interact as though I am unfazed by that fact. Is this because I want to challenge others to see me the way I see myself? If so, if their minds remain unchanged is it a waste? Or do I do this as a means to try and transcend the working definition of beauty altogether? Reclaim it as something other than the world’s reaction to someone’s physical elements but instead as an internal attitude and a way of moving through space, as a force swimming fiercely against the current, a slave to neither beauty, because I’ve never been granted this status in order to fear its revocation, nor ugliness because I’ve disallowed myself to interact with others according to how they react to me.

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Ideally we all believe that we are beautiful  and are all reacted to as such but we all know that that is not usually the case. Many of us probably experience a mixture of one or more or all four scenarios at once or experience one or more these scenarios at different points in our lives. Some people feel like A. with makeup on and like C. without it. Some people might feel like C. in middle school and become B. after high school and D. in senior adulthood. It all varies, I guess.

So why didn’t I write a scenario where someone feels beautiful and is reacted to as being as beautiful as they feel? Frankly, because I haven’t the vaguest sense of what that’s like.

Misogyny is not a compliment.

So forgive me if this post sounds more like a rant than usual but I am very heated right now.

It was two weeks ago. There’s this boy that I go to school with who has not so subtly let me know that he’s interested in me. He’s a bit irritating but also very sweet, usually, so I try to be as friendly as possible. Anyway, I and a friend of mine were sitting in the library working on our final projects when the boy came and began to work on his final projects as well. He was his usual self, going out of his way to make conversation and I, as usual, entertained him to the extent that I could allow myself to because, again, he’s sweet kid. Even though I really was trying to be nice, the occasional snide remark does escape me here and there and my friend chastised me about my supposed rudeness. I disagreed with her assessment of my behavior, but I began to try extra hard to be nicer even though I had no interest in this boy, whatsoever, because again, he’s a sweet kid. That was until the point came that he wasn’t.

He mentioned how he wanted to go to McDonald’s to get something to eat and in making the politest conversation that I could manage and in truthfulness, I added that I could really go for some McDonald’s french fries.

“No, you don’t need to be eating McDonald’s french fries” he said.

“Why not?” I asked him.

“Yeah, why the fuck not?” my friend chimed in after me.

“Because those fries will make you gain weight.”

“And? I care because…?” I asked sharply.

“Because I like you the way you are. I don’t want you to lose weight and I don’t want you to gain weight either.”

My shoulders tensed up but I pursed my lips and said nothing at the moment. I know that he did not say or mean this maliciously in the slightest, but the way he meant his comment to be received was irrelevant. My friend, in shock, let him know that he didn’t win any points with me with that remark. Puzzled, he continued to insist that my body was good the way that it was and that he just wanted to assure me that in his eyes, he saw no need for me to make or have the desire to make any alterations to my body.

“The problem is that I don’t give a fuck what you think and I’m going to eat whatever the fuck I want because it is my body” I said, sternly but still noticeably restrained from my usual “angry black girl” self.

I wasn’t looking at his face because I was working on the computer and I had no intention of wasting my precious time just to entertain someone I was thoroughly uninterested in, so I could not tell if he got the message or not. Either way, he dropped the subject and I was fine.

Since the friend that I was with at the time agreed that he was overstepping flirting territory straight into being “rude” (a word she uses a little too much and often too freely but in this case, I’d say rude is a bit of an understatement) it did not occur to me that some people might find my taking offense to be uncalled for.

Here are the phrases that stood out to me as I recounted the story amongst some of my other friends:

  • “It was a compliment.”
    • Is it a compliment? Is it really? I don’t see the compliment in his misogynistic entitlement to tell me what I should and should not eat. As if the reason why I eat the way I do or look the way I do in general is for him, or for anyone else for that matter, but myself. The parallels can be drawn to men who request that women wear minimal or no makeup because “we look good just the way we are” or they like “natural beauty”. Excuse the fuck outta me. Most women do not wear makeup, or dress up, or do their hair, or do anything for the sole purpose of pleasing men. Women’s sole purpose of existing is not for the pleasure of men, but way too many men still think that it is. Also, a true compliment is devoid of instructions, requests, or demands. A compliment is simply, you look nice today or you are beautiful. It would no longer be a compliment if someone said, “I don’t want you to cut or dye your hair because I like it just the way it is.” That may be how you feel, but you are insinuating that your opinions about that person’s hair is of so much consequence that they should make decisions about their own features in order to satisfy your preferences. The context in which he presented that he “likes me the way I am” is what stripped the comment of its compliment quality and turned it into misogyny.
  • “You’re being too high maintenance.”
    • “High maintenance” is one of those infamous sexist buzz words used to condemn women for expressing human behaviors that society deems should be exclusively masculine. See: bossy: a woman who leads; takes charge, crazy: a woman who expresses any emotion other than happy or content, bitch: a woman who stands up for herself, slut/prude: a woman who practices her sexuality at her own discretion, and high maintenance: a woman who has any type of standards/preferences concerning the person that she dates; a woman who expects to be treated with respect by the person she is dating. A man who steers clear of a woman who is interested in him but has offended him in some way is dodging a bullet by avoiding a “crazy bitch”; a woman who steers clear of a man who is interested in her but has offended her is “high maintenance” because “he’s a nice guy” and she should “just give him a chance”. The double standards are endless.
  • “You should be flattered that he said he likes you the way you are.”
    • Now let me be absolutely clear, this post is about women in general, but there is an important independent variable that has affected the outcome in my case. I am not a skinny girl. I am curvy, thick, plus-size, or whatever euphemism people prefer to use these days. I usually just say fat. That is why I should be so “flattered” that someone likes me the way that I am because according to society, no one is supposed to like me the way that I am. Men are supposed to flock to thinner girls than myself, and most of them do, so the fact that he is even the least bit interested in me should be something that I should be grateful for in many people’s eyes. That is why I am being “high maintenance” because I am asking for too much as a fat woman, to want a guy to be both impressed by my physical appearance and to not be an asshole about it. That is why I should take what he said as a compliment because most guys would prefer me to lose weight so the fact that he doesn’t is a miracle and the least that I could do is not push my limits and maintain a stable diet regimen to continue to be at least one man’s idea of acceptable.

Allow me to also mention that this is not the first time I’ve gotten a “compliment” of this caliber. I once was out with a guy who said that I am “the perfect size” because I am “not too big and I’m not too small” and that I’m “probably only 30 pounds away from being a size 12”. I felt that it stopped being a compliment after the words “perfect size”. In my ears, all I heard was a voice shouting into a megaphone announcing “You have reached the fatness limit! Do not cross! Do not gain weight! Any normal human fluctuation of body mass is unacceptable!” Being a size 14/16 I guess it is understandable that people may see me as tiptoeing on the line between fat and not fat, so I guess that is why men feel the need to let me know just how fine a line they think that I’m dancing and that if I hope to gain their affections, I should not falter.

I want to be heard loud and clear when I say that I will never apologize for being fat. I will not expect less from men regarding anything including, but not limited to, respect because of my fatness. I will not hold men to lower standards, I will not act like I am worth less than any other woman because of my fatness, or my blackness, or for any other reason because I know my worth and I know what I deserve and if someone else does not, that is not my problem. I ain’t finna let any fuckboy roll up on me any type of way, not now, not ever.

So to summarize, in the words of Tyra Banks:

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To be a black girl like me

We’re all connected –

Black girls of my generation,

Like coiled hair in box braids,

Like the stars in a constellation,

Like we’re in on a secret

They’ve tried to bury,

But when we unearthed it

They started to worry.

Told us it doesn’t matter.

Told us it’s worthless.

Told us it was of no consequence

Because that secret was us.

And possessing this truth

Even though it’s no privilege,

It’s another obligation

We have to learn how to deal with;

To protect each other

Like the buried treasure we’ve always been,

To make sure the secret gets out,

To make sure we don’t fall back in.

We’re precious jewels,

We’re diamonds in the rough,

We’re under pressure to conform,

Because we’re more than enough.

We don’t fit the mold of

Eurocentricity;

Our jagged edges

Can cut through anything.

We’re not angry, we’re sharp

And being silenced cuts deep.

The kind of power black girls hold

Is not a secret anyone can keep.

We’ve got dirt in our lungs,

We’ve got bruises on our skin,

We’ve got blood in our teeth,

You see, there’s pain in melanin.

Bruises are our heritage,

We’re hurt and we’re scarred,

But the ugliness of the world

Does not reflect who we are.

We are stars,

Burning bright, unheard

And untouchable,

We’re precious stones

Never left unturned

And unbreakable.

Black girls struggle.

Black girls rock.

Black girls are magic,

But black girls are not.

Black girls laugh.

Black girls cry.

Black girls go missing

And no one asks why.

Black girls are suffocating,

In ways no one understands.

Did anyone try to #BringBackOurGirls?

And #WhatHappenedToSandraBland?

It’s a big deal

To be born in this skin.

It’s not a club

To let Rachel Dolezal in.

There’s no instruction manual,

Just a lot of terms and conditions.

Rebellion is the biggest risk;

Freedom is the mission.

Black girls are Amandla, Zendaya

Keke, Solange, and Nicki;

Black girls are Laverne, Lupita

Quvenzhané, Willow, and Gabourey.

And you might think

In all your outgroup bias

That we’re all jealous of Kylie,

But she’ll never ever know

How awful and wonderful it is

To be a black girl like me.

-Chido

 

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What is Beauty?

Beauty is an ideal sought after worldwide. People both live and die for beauty. For some beauty is tangible and for others it’s more abstract, but that doesn’t change the fact that it is regarded in one way or another by most living beings. In fact, to disregard beauty and its importance almost always has to be a conscious choice, whereas to praise the elements and characteristics that are deemed the most desirable to whomever it may concern is implicit; it’s just a way of life.

Why is beauty so important to us?

That’s a root I’m sure many of us would like to dig up, at least anyone who has spent as much time considering it as I have, but I feel that the answer, or answers, to that question lie in the definition(s) of beauty itself.

I’m attempting an eight part segment to attempt to explain all the definitions of beauty as I’ve pondered them in my poster-clad dorm room while eating French Fries and drinking Arizona. I’m neither an expert nor am I a sociologist or an anthropologist or anything of the sort, I’m just someone who’s been wondering things and wondering if people are wondering the same things I’m wondering.

Think of this series as more of a discussion than anything; interaction and feedback is more than welcome so long as it is constructive.

B.I.T.C.H. part 5

Because

Inevitably, bitterness

Took over and

Consumed me the way

Hypocrites consumed church offerings

 

Because

I urged

To rebel against everything

Created to

Hinder me from saying these things

 

Because

It’s all

Too taboo, too

Cliché and

Heresy

 

Because

Insincerity is

Truth and

Cluelessness is safety and the manifestation of both

Harbors a relentless thirst for transparency

 

Because

Injustice

Turns softness into

Coarseness and lewdness into

Holiness

 

Because

Ignorance is a survival

Tactic

Carrying away women’s words and killing us

Haphazardly

 

Because

Inside me

The

Cracks are still

Healing

 

Because

Independence

Takes

Continuous

Hurt and bravery

 

Because all

I’m doing is

Toughening myself up and

Climbing out of the

Hole you buried me in

 

Because

In every language

There’s a word for ‘bitch’, but too long have we

Confused the word ‘bitch’ with

Heroine

 

Because a bitch

Isn’t

The worst thing that you

Can call me,

Honestly

-Chido

 

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B.I.T.C.H. part 4

Because being African had many

Implications

That I had no

Clue

How to apply to my “Americanized” ass

 

Because

I don’t speak

The language and it feels weird to

Call it

Home

 

Because the motherland

Is a stranger

Too,

Conquered by strangers who now try to

Heal us from the very afflictions they gave us

 

Because

In America we

Think they still wear the traditional garb they scoff at us for, but on the

Contrary, they wear the assimilated attitudes they forced into our

Heads

 

Because

It’s not just a migration, it’s a

Tactic;

Colonization

Has more to do with our minds than our land

 

Because when

I say

That all was taken from us, don’t

Correct me. Who are you if your own mind

Hates who you are and loves those who slaughtered you?

 

Because my home

Is not home because it was

Taken from me and I was rescued from it. They

Created this

Hell-hole for us and then we come running into their arms

 

Because this

Isn’t home either.

This

Country

Harbors only bad intentions towards me

 

Because Euro-Americans taught me my

Identity was

Tough and undesirable, like the

Cuts of meat that gets shoved on your plate so you just

Have to eat it

 

Because

I don’t belong

To either world; I’ve been

Cut down the middle and I feel utterly

Homeless

 

Because

I’m estranged from my mother

Tongue, doomed to be

Characterized by a language that possesses only

Hostility towards me

 

Because

I was spoon fed blind loyalty

To

Capitalism, racism, sexism, and all other systems set up to erase my

Humanity

 

Because

I was

Tricked into submission

Cloaked in patriotism

Handled with kid gloves used for orphans like me

 

Because a bitch

Isn’t

The worst thing that you

Can call me,

Honestly

-Chido

 

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B.I.T.C.H. part 3

Because

In

The evening, restlessness and dissatisfaction

Came and

He drank himself to sleep

 

Because

In

The

Car

He drove home drunk too often

 

Because another day of his

Insufficient life was harder

To

Consider than being responsible for

Homicide

 

Because the way he

Imagined life

To be, wasn’t at all what it was, so he

Cured

His heartache with the bottle

 

Because

Imbibing alcohol like

Tylenol

Constituted

Healing for the time being

 

Because by morning time all

Inexcusable acts would be forgotten and

Tolerance granted pleasant amnesty, but my sobriety

Couldn’t allow me to forget all the words

He said to me

 

Because

Inexplicable sadness overcame me when he

Told me

Cruelly

How much he sees himself in me

 

Because

I knew he spoke

Truthfully whenever he

Cried he loved me

He did indeed

 

Because

Intoxication was

The only thing he

Clearly loved more than

He loved me

 

Because a bitch

Isn’t

The worst thing that you

Can call me,

Honestly

-Chido

 

Image Source

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