Ravings of a Mad Woman
My carpal tunnel has been healing but I’ve really been missing blogging full steam…it can’t heal fast enough, honestly. I know I’m cheating, but this here world around me is making me absolutely mad and the only remedy is writing. I get this way sometimes – it feels like time is alternating between moving backward and at triple speed, nothing seems to go as planned, everyone is out to get me, and objects whose size and shape serve a direct purpose, such as clothing and keys, no longer fit the way that they’re supposed to. Either I’ve slipped into Alice’s Wonderland or I’m just going slightly crazy, and as much as I fancy myself the protagonist of any story I think I’m that goofy old Mad Hatter. Can I present you with 4 problem issues? Thanks.
1. Take, for example, the fact that I’m (finally) moving to a new apartment and new neighborhood. My regular readers know that I’m so done with my living situation: my landlord is an illiterate jerk, my neighbor steals my jet magazines, and a special brand of wacko roams the streets of West Philly. Needless to say, I’m extra hype about my new place! So why is my landlord being a total jerk about the fact that I’m moving out, giving me the “fine, I don’t need you!” treatment when it comes to things as simple as my returning the keys? He needs to get a life and realize that I watch People’s Court EVERY DAY so I WILL bring him to small claims if need be. Moving is stressful enough as it is, but must I be forced to do it Crazy Black Woman style? Marilyn Milian, bring it.
2. Yesterday was extra random. I’m on this “black” e-mail list at work that fills my Outlook inbox with everything from heads-ups that Sinbad is coming to town right down to misguided efforts at establishing a company-wide Kwanzaa celebration. I noticed a few e-mails come in from the list in the morning but I was too busy writing emails of my own. After a few hours my boss came over and asked me what happened to the email I was supposed to have already sent hours ago. Turns out that that email, along with all of the others I thought had already been fired off, were sitting in my Outbox unsent because my mailbox had exceeded its storage limit. What was the over sized e-mail that pushed me into “email jail”? Some black lady’s Sweet Potato Pie recipe that had come in over the list serve – all 2 Megabytes of it. I kid you not.
3. The yin to the yang of the aforementioned colored foible (messing up at work because of some Negro cuisine) came later on that day, when my boss’s boss, a middle aged white woman with a standard blond bob, passed my cubicle and did a double take. I will shout from the mountaintops that sometimes, just not necessarily all the time, I do dabble in a bit of ponytail-piecery and the hair-extension arts, and I was doing something pretty funky with my do. Anyway, this lady stops in her tracks and says “I just LOVE your hair!” I gave her a small polite smile and said thank you, which I immediately regretted when she continued on, asking “Is that your real hair? Does it just attach somehow? I wish I could do something that fun with my boring hair…” If I could freeze time for a second like in those Twix commercials I would have, because I really needed a moment. Never one to be bashful, I just told her no, it’s not real, which of course must have sounded like an invitation for her to fluff my curls out with her white hand because that’s just what she did. I’m turning thirty years old three months from today, and somehow older white women still treat me like a pickaninny stuffed animal/golliwog doll. I resolved to grin and bear it and move on with the knowledge that she was well-intentioned and I’d probably already be halfway to madness even without that kind of stuff happening.
4. Speaking of white people, I am being driven absolutely mad by this election and especially by the white people who think that black America is going to rise up around Barack Obama so he can execute the “black agenda,” and leave white America in the dust. It’s a very telling fear that I’ve seen expressed by numerous afraid whites on various YouTube clips, and my sentiments on this have moved from tickled to annoyed. Aside from being embarrassing on the world stage, these beliefs are so ridiculous that it makes my stomach hurt. The denial runs oh-so-deep. First of all, Barack Obama is not going to be all about the Black Agenda because guess what white people? I have a secret for you – there is no black agenda. The only thing black folks have consistently done together since 1865 is listen to music and make babies. We do not have a collective plan. Secondly, what are we going to take away from white people? NASCAR? The fear that we’re going to take something tangible away from them is such a shabby masquerade for the fear that white privilege might somehow go out of style. It makes me feel like I must be crazy that these people are still given the mic at this stage in the election process.
Sigh…ok that feels a lot better. I’m still unhinged but there’s nothing left to do but soak my arm, pack my stuff, and keep it moving. Will be back soon…