being strong is really weak af..
Being strong is actually weak as fuck and I’m over it.
Every time there is something catastrophic happening in this ghetto life of mine, the most common piece of advice I receive (that’s if I even tell people what’s going on, but chileee that’s another story) is “You’re strong, you can make it through this”
And although, I know that that advice is without malice and good intentions, can I admit – that I won’t be wanting to hear that sh.t all the time. Because if we are being honest, sometimes being strong is weak af and I’m so glad I am coming into space to finally admit that. Being strong all the time is hard, draining, and exhausting, and honestly it’s getting on my damn nerves. God, please get somebody else to do it.
While many of us are figuring this ghetto ass life out and trying to navigate through this panini, or trying to get another job, overcoming a heartbreak, grieving losses unspoken of, making and connecting to new friends, never having enough money to enjoy this “bLacK gIrL luxury” lifestyle we see infiltrated social media, I mean the list goes on and on! I don’t think that we are consciously being aware of the pressure we are faced with daily and we aren’t told how to cope, but just to DO. No one talks about those spaces we are navigating that we want to be weak in, want to be damsels in distress, or simply want to cry out “ahhh I NEED HELP”
It made me start thinking that many of us don’t even have the space to be vulnerable, transparent, or honest in those capacities of expressing how heavy the bags we carry are. Yall know what Muva Badu says “you gon hurt you back, dragging all them bags like that” We have been conditioned to believe that the more we carry, the stronger we appear (hence I said to appear, not are) because even if we can carry 10 bags up 10 flights of stairs, doesn’t mean that the journey to get to the top isn’t hard, painful, or mf exhausting. I think we don’t even really realize that we weren’t supposed to carry the bags, burdens, and the despairs of our everyday live up mental flights of stairs in one trip anyway. On my momma, everything has been a lie!
So I’ve denounced my strength. I vow to never ever be called resilient in my life again.
Because my humanity of wanting to rely on my tribe for a helping hand means more.
My desire to relinquish control matters more.
My ability to understand that I no longer wish to wear my strength as a badge of honor, I decided to be the hanger instead. yup in my lil ol closet- which I can hang my strength up to use for another day.
My desire is that you also feel empowered to admit that not being strong doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human.
xoxo Sho