Journal Day 20, Dedicated to the Little Girl.

I grew up around a bevy of strong black women. My mother, though weak in some ways, represents strength to me now that she is gone because I am able to fully comprehend the different demons she fought as well as the obstacles she overcame. There is my grandmother who raised me when she didn't have to for the mother and father that couldn't. I have aunts and godmothers and mother figures that were placed strategically throughout my life that showed me strength. But at times in showing me their strength they neglected to let me know that it was okay to be weak sometimes. In learning how to be strong, someone should have shown me that it was okay, and necessary, to breakdown and cry sometimes. My grandmother doesn't like tears. If I had money for everytime she told me not to cry, straighten up my face, and that crying wouldn't change anything, I'd already be a rich chick. I have conditioned myself to fight back tears even when they have threatened to spring forth from any open orafice of my body. "Tears are a sign of weakness," my Auntie told me one day. So instead of letting them out, I held them in because I didn't want to be weak. But in doing that I have caused damage to my own emotions. Long supressed sorrow/anger/rage is bubbling just beneath the surface of my calm exterior. "People say I'm the life of the party, cause I tell a joke or two..." The contradiction is too much for me to even comprehend. I bring this up because I came face to face with the little girl in me today. She was crying so hard, and I didn't know why, but just seeing her made me cry. Realizing that she was here and had been here all along needing someone to listen and not tell her to be quiet. I cried for the child in me today that is still missing her momma. I cried today for a strong sista that just wasn't feeling very strong. I dedicated my tsunami to the little girl forgotten. After my eyes were dry I realized that they were not tears of regret or remorse. They didn't represent weakness either. Instead, right now, I feel relieved that I was finally able to let go, even if it was in private. And you know what? I feel twenty pounds lighter.
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