The Internet can be a cruel and unusual abyss of half-cocked opinions and bargain basement analysis, especially when it comes to Black wom...
Scary Shades of Rage
Once upon a time I was a part of Cubicle Nation. I sat at my shared cube with a close classmate, Cherry, who also worked with me at an internship. She & I used to shoot the shit to pass the unnecessary amount of time we sat with nothing to do while waiting for our prima donna supervisor to show up & delegate.
One particular day me & Cherry were in the cube rappin' a taste about relationships. She asked me, "You know how they say you can see red?" I nodded in the affirmative. "I've actually seen it." I knew some delicious morsel was coming because ALL of Cherry's stories were entertaining, fresh from the collection of lessons she's compiled over the course of her life--best described as a major struggle. Cherry was living with her daughter's father. If I'm not mistaken, the daughter hadn't made her entry yet, but was in utero. She came home early from work & found that the father of her egg was in their nest with some next chick. They weren't napping but he was, as she said, mid stroke & the girl was overdoing the sound effects. She added, "I've been with him; he wasn't that talented." The chick recovered some of her memories of gymnastics class as a little girl & tucked & rolled out of the bed toward her clothes. Cherry didn't know where her speed came from, "Cuz you know I don't believe in things that make me sweat," & beat the girl to her clothes. Needless to say, she found herself on the street nekkid.
It all sounded like the hood novels she tried to get me to read that always involved cats from the corners going to jail & being held down by some dumb girl who was sprung off the excitement of "the life." I'm a literary snob. Anyway... Somehow Cherry managed to toss the chick and grab some cutlery in 1 swift motion. This is where Cherry says she can't account for time. She grabbed the knife & then saw nothing but red. She said it was like a red veil had been lowered over her face--everything was red. By the time she was able to see reality again, Baby Daddy was stabbed & she was handcuffed. I officially know a woman who assaulted a man. Not sure how I feel about it, but I do. That's neither here nor there. The part that was intriguing was the concept of being so angry that you really can no longer focus on reality. It brought new meaning to pleading insanity & made me wonder about how far anger really can go.
This week has helped me to further understand my own levels of anger. Yesterday I achieved the kind of anger that brought on cravings for comfort foods & then managed to render me so disinterested in everything that I couldn't taste. Nothing. Food in the trash, stomach empty, & mind full, I popped the cap on a beer & called it a night. Today I had a moment where, attempting to successfully bite my tongue & be the bigger person, I saw white. I suspect white isn't as bad as red, but the ability to see colors at all in response to emotions is NOT the bizness.
All around me are signs that things are beyond off kilter in my world. I am NOT willing to risk anymore toenails, sacrifice any limbs, or offer up any aspects of my freedom. At my last job it was clear to me when I began dreaming of mollywhoppin' my supervisor that it was time to G-O. I don't always need my signs lit in neon so I took heed & turned in my letter of resignation. I haven't begun to have such dreams but things are NOT as they should be. My protective shell is cracked or something & I need some time to get on the mend. The only colors I'm trying to see are those that usher OUT the blahs of Winter & welcome in the Spring & Summer, but I only want to see them in nail polish colors & on sun dresses. Blacking out & having my conscious mind replace it with the shades of rage is an extreme I'm not tryna get to know.
If you're a praying wo/man, keep me in favor.
Watch me move.