Silently Suffering in Public: The Black Single Mom's Story
So I've taken a few days away from the blog to think about exactly what value I wanted to bring to you guys. I didn't want this blog to be just like any other space on the internet. A sea of “how-to's” and tips and tricks and life hacks.
And while those things definitely can be beneficial for helping you get ready for a date or reminding you that self care is the best care, they don't REALLY address the elephant.
The ostracizing of single mothers. Black single mothers.
And as I promised, The Solo Mom Life IS your space to be heard! So today's post is going to be very different. Don't worry, the tips and life hacks will return.
But today, I want to tell a story. The story of the black single mom. I want to first paint the picture of how she presents herself to the world. And then we will rewind and tell the story from inside her mind. The frustration, the turmoil, the angst, but most of all, the hurt.
So sit back and let's take this ride.
“The most disrespected person in America, is the black woman. The most un-protected person in America is the black woman. The most neglected person in America, is the black woman.” – Malcolm X
IN THE PUBLIC EYE
“GIVE ME BACK MY SOCK DASHAWN!”
“THEY MY SOCKS!”
The incessant loud banging on her bedroom door, fifteen minutes before the alarm was set to go off was the soundtrack to the morning sibling argument. As if they needed the extra help.
“I’m telling on you,” the younger of the two boys wailed through the closed door.
“I don’t care! They my socks anyway! That’s all you do is snitch!”
“It’s too early! It’s too early,” she yelled from under the covers, trying to steal any little ounce of sleep she had left.
Without warning or permission for that matter, the two boys burst into her room both arguing and pleading their side of the sock fiasco.
Accepting her fate for the day, she sat up to face her two beautiful wild eyed children. Sticking her hand up in the air to stop them mid stride, she repeated, “I SAID IT’S TOO EARLY! You both have your OWN rooms now so there’s no reason why either of you should be mistakenly taking clothes from the other. Jaylen, give me the socks.”
She motioned for the older of the two boys to hand over the socks he had been gripping like his life depended on it. And with much reluctance, he obliged.
“Both of you go to your rooms, get a pair of socks out of your drawers, put them on and get ready for school QUIETLY!”
Turning her morning Neo-Soul on, she was ready to take on the day. She prepared the boys’ breakfast and made sure their lunches were fixed. She went over their sports schedules for the day and coordinated with their grandmother for their afternoon pickup since she would be working late. She ensured they safely got on their respective school buses and then started to prepare herself for her work day.
Then the phone rang.
“Hey, so I’m not going to be able to get the boys this weekend. Something came up.”
“WHAT?! What came up?”
“Whatchu mean? I don’t be asking you about your life.”
“You know why?!! Because I ALWAYS show up for OUR children! I NEVER cancel on OUR children! This is the SECOND time you’ve canceled on them!”
“I got you next time. I promise.”
“Got me? ME? It’s not me you’re getting. It’s your sons.”
“Look I gotta run. Tell the boys I love them. I’ll hit you later.”
Click…..
Her commute to work was quiet…
She sat in the parking lot at her job for a few minutes before going in… She took a few deep breaths and walked in…
Just like clock work, her supervisor had already emailed her a laundry list of meetings and to-do’s and it wasn’t even 9am yet.
“So this is what I need from you first,” he said bursting into her office without knocking or even as much as saying good morning or making eye contact.
“Yes, I received your five emails already,” she said plastering a forced smiled.
She had earned the “coveted” label of the “Angry Black Woman” around the office and her supervisor had had his fair share of run ins with her so he knew to tread lightly.
They say time flies when you’re having fun. But it also flies when you have a supervisor who wants to make your life a living hell and gives you all the workload so before she knew it, it was five o’ clock. She had just enough time to make it to Jaylen’s football game and then to her part time job after.
As she’s walking to her car, her phone rings and it’s the guy she’s been seeing off and on. With the added stress from working two jobs, raising two boys, dealing with a deadbeat ex, a supervisor who hates her, and just being a black woman altogether, she declined his call. Cause not today Satan.
INSIDE HER MIND
“A vacation is a big ask. But it would be nice if I could just get ONE night of uninterrupted sound REM sleep.
I think the last time I had a full eight hours of uninterrupted sleep was twelve years ago before my son was born.
Between the nights I’ve stayed up nursing a sick child or working late hours or being the protector when they’re too scared to sleep in their own beds, my sleep always is the first to be sacrificed.
And even when they are with their dad; the few times a month that he actually shows up, I’m STILL restless with worry that they’re ok and ready to jump up at any moment in case the phone rings.
It always pains me to even mention the topic of their dad. If ever there’s a point in my life where guilt and shame looms over my head, it’s with him.
YES I picked him but he was a completely different man when I met him. He was so charming and charismatic. He was the epitome of what the perfect man was. I fell for him hard and fast. But I was naive so it was more like he picked me. He knew that I was an easy target. He knew I could easily be manipulated. He made so many promises to me that none of which he followed through on.
And what do you do when you just want to be loved so bad? Leave?? So easy for you to say on the outside looking in.. Emotional detachment from a situation is always very convenient. I had already gotten pregnant with our first son by the time reality set in that he wasn’t who I initially thought he was.
So then it became this savior mission. That maybe I could love him to change. How little did I know, even in my early thirties.
Twelve years of my life. Two children. A house. A ring.
His family on the side…
How could I have not known? How could I not know that something wasn’t right? The business trips out of town. The arguments that seemed to have come out of nowhere.
How could I have failed my children like this?
The amount of blame society places on single mothers without as much as batting an eye at the fathers is astounding. Because the truth is, all most single mothers do is blame themselves! All we do is hold OURSELVES in the fire!
But it takes TWO people to create a single mother. BOTH people played a part in the downfall of the relationship.
I’ve been called every name in the book and yet he’s treated like a God. And of course they’re STILL together. He barely sees his sons because it causes friction for his NOW wife and THEIR children.
Imagine that. How humiliating that feels. To know I gave this man twelve years of my life and he played in my face. And instead of being a man and breaking things off with me, he strung me along, had ANOTHER baby with me all the while creating a whole family behind my back.
Love will make you do some crazy things.
Like be with a man for twelve years and not realize he had a mistress.
Or be the one now married to that man and be ok knowing that you once were the mistress. Sometimes I can’t help but to feel sorry for her cause I know how it feels to be desperate for love.
**DEEP SIGH**
My life often feels like I’m in a cage. Like I’m a spectacle in a zoo and I always have to be “ON”.
If I don’t move right, look right, smile right, say the right things, I’m ridiculed. ESPECIALLY at work.
I literally can just be walking through the door, minding my business and one of my coworkers will inquire about whether or not I’m ok or what’s wrong when all I’m doing is just trying to get to my desk.
Like, ‘Sorry Massa, sorry I didn’t smile big enuff fuh yuh juss nah suh. I promise tuh do bettah next time yuh pass me by suh’.
Because being a black woman who expresses even just a small amount of feeling will get you labeled ANGRY, you’re then heavily scrutinized and criticized for just existing.
Regardless of any injustice or foul play you may encounter, your response will ALWAYS be evaluated above and beyond the initial act.
It's the intentional silencing as if we’ll just somehow disappear into the abyss one day.
As black women, we aren’t given the space to express how we feel. We are labeled as angry or a bxtch when history (and present times) has given us all the evidence we need to be completely livid. It’s as if we are just expected to operate as machines and tolerate whatever treatment is thrown our way.
We are whole humans with full ranges of feelings and emotions and yet the minute we begin to open up, we are shut down and dismissed.
We have to STOP this narrative of the Angry Black Woman! We are NOT angry! We are HURT! We feel abandoned! We feel unheard! Neglected! Unseen!
But you know what, even the strongest of humans would feel a twinge of anger and resentment if these things happened to them…
So pardon us for allowing our human to show………”
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are fictional and serve as a representation of likeness.