What You Missed about the Color Purple
I saw a Twitter thread a awhile back about black people laughing at things that shouldn’t be funny. Someone in the thread mentioned one of my all time favorite movies; The Color Purple. I could probably quote this movie word for word, ad-lib for ad-lib & I swear I notice something new every time. But seeing it mentioned in that thread made me think not only about the comedians and music artists who’ve referenced it over time, but also all the inside jokes between me and my family that derived from the movie.
I watched a show called American Masters on PBS that featured Alice Walker, the author of the book the movie brought to life. She talked about how much pushback she received when the book was released. How it was called perverted and how black southerners and church leaders found fault with it, but Alice saw truth. She sought to tell the story of the black experience from the voiceless. If you think about it, much of the movie we hear Celie’s THOUGHTS more than she ever really uses her voice.
Of all the things to protest or laugh at about this Alice Walker book turned Steven Spielberg film, I never found anything funny about Celie’s sexual trauma. From the time she was touched until the time of his death, she spent her life thinking her FATHER violated her. Which caused her to have unhealthy and unsatisfying ideas around sex. She described sex with her “husband” Albert to Shug as follows “I just let him get on top of me and do his business.” Sex was an act she had no say in. No RIGHT to the use of her own body. She was conditioned to believe that her body was for the use of men’s pleasure, and labor.
Statistics show that 66% of victims of sexual assault and rape under the age of 18 were between the ages of 12 and 17. Between 2009 and 2013 80% of perpetrators of child sexual abuse were a parent. 4% were an unmarried partner of a parent. That means 84% of the 63,000 children a YEAR that evidence supports were sexually abused between 2009 and 2013 lived a life like Celie. Where they may have kept sexual trauma by a parent a secret from the other parent. Where they bare children for a parental figure, where they don’t understand the autonomy of their bodies, even if they DO know what’s happening to them is wrong.
RAINN Day may have come and gone, but Domestic Violence Awareness Month is right around the corner. The color Purple is the color chosen to call attention to Intimate Partner Violence each October. The US Department of Justice includes victims as young as 12 years old in their reportings on Intimate Partner Violence. As September comes to an end, and Domestic Violence Awareness Month begins, don’t just remember The Color Purple as a classic curated by Steven Spielberg; remember it as the documentary Alice Walker intended it to be, and recognize that sexual assault at the hands of a parent or parental figure is very real. It’s not a scene to be laughed at or ignored, rather a punishable offense, and only 6 in 1,000 perpetrators end up in prison. #DaaamnDaddy
Survival Stories: Halimah DeOliveira
Thursday September 21 is Rape, Assault, Incest, National Network Day also known as RAINN Day. Instead of using a television series or providing an anecdote from my personal life, I sought out a speaker who had lived through the experience. I came to know Halimah DeOliveira through the Circle of Greatness Academy. She sponsored my attendance to a Ladies Only Brunch in Philadelphia in a moment where I needed the positive energy. I would have never guessed that she experienced and survived everything that she had. After losing her biological father at the age of 2, her mother remarried and her life changed. She shares her story in this live interaction, in hopes that another young lady hears her story and gains the power to use her voice against her abuser. Press Play to hear her survival story.
Let’s Talk about SEX…EDUCATION
About a month ago I reached out to the traphisticated change agents of KIMBRITIVE, Kimberly Huggins & Brittany Brathwaite to do a collaborative call in regards to Rape, Assault & Incest National Network Day. That topic isn’t exactly in alignment with what they do, but they still agreed to talk with me & I’m glad they did.
We talked about everything from whether or not our families had the tools to teach us about sexual health in the home, how both the public & private education systems didn’t support our curiosity or provide vital health information, and that sometimes even those we THINK are qualified to answer our questions really aren’t.
They told me how they fill the gaps for young people that they wished had been filled for them & taught me a thing or two about healthcare, reproductive justice as well as Curls, Condoms & how the products in our hair impact our ovaries. And they introduced me to Darla, the brown Vulva, cause representation matters! So if you missed it, hit play below & leave a comment & tell us what you think, what you learned & who you shared this with.
Survivor’s Remorse
Imagine not knowing who your father is. At All. Not even a name, not even a theory. For 27 years. TWENT-TY SEV-EN YEARS!
Think about what questions you’d ask your mother. Do I look like him? Did he like the same stuff that I like? WHAT IS HIS NAME?
Now imagine being the mother of that child. Not only unwilling, but UNABLE to answer those questions. Spending 27 years trying to block out your child’s conception. Being reminded of the worst night of your life with every question.
That’s the story of Mary-Charles and her mother Cassie. Cassie was a girl from Boston in her early teens when she and some friends rode down to a party on Long Island. It was there she was sexually taken advantage of by not one, not two, but THREE fellow party-goers. It was on that night Mary-Charles was conceived. And for TWENTY SEVEN years she managed to bury that incident deep inside. Scolding and chastising Mary-Charles for every expressed desire to know who else’s DNA made her who she was.
It took for Cassie’s son, whose father had been incarcerated since he was six weeks old, to guilt her into giving Mary-Charles a lead. I couldn’t imagine having to explain to my son at any age that I had been violated by three men and that his sister was a living, breathing, TALKING reminder of possibly the worst night of my life.
This may be the fictional tale of a scripted drama family, but for so many this is real life.
I watched in awe as Mary-Charles addressed the three tombstones as “Rape Father #1”, “Rape Daddy #2” and “Rape Dad #3”
Having the moment to get out all the “In spite of you, I Am” statements that so many of us need to say, some to fathers still living and breathing.
Every 98 seconds an American is Sexually Assaulted. September 21st is Rape, Assault, Incest National Network Day.
I’ve never been a victim of rape, but I could think of no Survivor’s Remorse worse than raising my unknown rapists’ baby. #DaaamnDaddy
Looking for Love in All the wrong Places
Ok yall, I apologize. I started this blog to talk about my Daddy Issues and shed light on how Daddy Issues create other problems in our lives. Recently however, I’ve misused this platform to vent about my “Thought I Found A Friend” relationship drama. Not only is that not fair to you as readers, it’s not fair to him, nor myself.
Truth is however that writing helps me heal. It’s hurt how I talk to myself. Where I gain clarity and has brought about the most progress for me in identifying and finally facing some of my Daddy Issues.
The problem lies in this. When I was in high school I began writing in notebooks because I had come to the realization that people were not to be trusted. Before then, my notebooks were exclusively for poems and short stories.
I created this blog essentially as an exercise in trust. Could telling my story help others? Could others be trusted to know my story and not judge me? I did here what I often do in real life.
Look for love in all the wrong places.
My mother loves me, my monster loves me, my uncles love me, my aunts love me, my grandfather reminds me EVERY chance he gets that he loves me, My grandmother loves me in ways her own children wish she had shown them and believe it or not all three of my Daddies tell me they love me all the time, well when I actually speak to them.
My problem has never been not being told “I love you” My problem is not feeling that people mean it.
When I was 12-13 years old I had my first boyfriend.
He was my 3rd-5th grade nemesis, but in 7th grade he became the “Love of my Life” My first Intellectual Asshole. I enveloped myself in him. Doing his homework AND mine (if mine even got done) Staying up late on the phone with him. Kissing him in the school courtyard, not caring who saw. I wanted to be loved.
At this time, Buddha was at peak failure. Living with some woman 5 blocks away, dropping off and picking up her kids at MY school that I lived right next to EVERY DAY. I would see him at the flag pole, roll my eyes and keep walking.
Step Dad #1 had seemingly fallen off the face of the earth. With his new baby and her mother that had a daughter the same age as me. I later learned that my sister’s father had demanded he back off not only from my mother’s life, but from mine as well. He had it in his mind that Step Dad #1 was using me as a pawn to lure my mother back in.
Speaking of my mother, she was acting very weird at this time. For 10 years I had been EVERYONE’s favorite person. Or at least it felt that way. Then my mother had my sister and I watched her create a new family I didn’t fell part of. My sister looks more like my mother, she’s as rebellious as her, and more importantly, at that time, she had a more loving, engaged and supportive father than I did. It was as if I was the little sister my mother never wanted and my sister was the daughter she always dreamed of. Any thing her father did to make me feel included always felt fake and forced to me.
To make matters worse, we had all just learned that my uncle’s girlfriend we didn’t care for was actually his wife. And she began speaking up more, putting a huge strain on my relationship with the one person I felt was always there and constant.
So, of course I fell in love with my nemesis. I wasn’t feeling very loved at home.
He listened to me. I learned from him.(He knew so much about so much the teachers loved his intellect but hated his attitude) And like most adolescent girls, my hormones made me want to be as close to him as I could whenever I could. Even if that meant listening to him watch The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen on the phone while I watched Nick @ Nite with my sister, 3 cousins and 57 stuffed animals laying in the bed with me.
When he started lying to me about other girls my famous line to them was, “I don’t care what he told you. Until he tells ME that we broke up, it doesn’t matter.”
Emmelie said it best, I think I always knew that I was attracting these dudes, because that’s what I was seeing.”
Except, it wasn’t necessarily what I was seeing. it’s what I was experiencing I was watching all three, four including my uncle of the men directly involved in my upbringing, raise everyone else but me.
So the cycle continued from there. I kept looking for the love I didn’t feel I was getting from my family in other ways.
Though my relationships have been few and far between, they always seem to come at times where I’m feeling empty. Be it neglect at home, failed friendships, unfulfilled in the workplace. And they always help me refill in the beginning, and once I’m full again, I start to see their flaws, I take more notice of the half-truths and lies by omissions and my trust issues are back. And every canceled plan takes me back to that flag pole, watching my father take somebody else’s kids to school.
I can’t rewind time & make my Daddies be more attentive to me in my critical adolescent years, but now that I’ve acknowledged this pattern, I can stop looking for love in all the wrong places.
F is for Friends Who Do Stuff Together
Initially I was gonna write about my abandonment problems from My Dads giving me trust issues & how my inability to trust causes me difficulty in building and maintaining friendships.
Then I hopped in a group chat after completely writing that post and talked about this random 37-year old man in the park telling me I had nice feet, then someone said “You have a boyfriend @BossyGroupChatName” to which I inquired “I do?” and they clarified that they were actually asking if I did. Then I was able to share. “I was feeling underappreciated so I let my last suitor go.” Or something close to that.
I was congratulated & told I deserve better by people who never even met the brother. I said “Thanks, I agree” and told them how I felt I couldn’t un-teach him certain behaviors, (Cause we all know you teach people how to treat you), then added “We cool now.” To which the initial interviewer replied “Good, I’m glad you were able to remain friends” And someone else chimed in “Good riddance. I don’t see why you should be friends with an ex.”
I could continue to transcribe the exchange & how I caped for this young man and just said “everybody don’t enter relationships with the same tools.” But I really want to zero in on how me saying “we cool now” led to a debate between other group members about whether or not folks should be friends with their exes. All I could think was *I never said we’re friends*
True to life I struggle with trust issues. I’ve ended many of friendships due to people habitually saying “I’m a call you right back” & not following through. I KNOW this is directly related to spending more than the first decade and a half of my life waiting for Buddha to finally show up or call or contribute when and what he said he would. For this reason I require people’s actions to match their words, or AT LEAST a genuine apology when they can’t. I expect others to treat me with the respect I give them.
I remember breaking up with my high school boyfriend and my uncle suggesting I try to remain his friend, because he did taxes and I might need an accountant one day. My uncle was friends with most of his exes. Many of whom had gone on to marry other men, but called on him to DJ their events and do repair work. So coming from him this was reasonable advice.
I tried that our with my high school boyfriend. We still did friend shit after I broke it off. He came skating for my 17th birthday. I attended his parents’ wedding the following month. After which we decided to go back to being more than friends. Only for him to fuck up royally on Valentine’s Day and me to discover that my choice to end things was the right one, because just as I suspected, he had been seeing someone else.
That was when I learned to listen to my intuition and not my uncles.
As far as my most recent situation, I felt like Tasha from Insecure. I’m not gone say that I knew or felt it was nothing serious but if he didn’t “You fronted like it was.” For months I thought we were something serious only for him to tell me he wasn’t ready for a relationship. I tried to replay in my mind any instances where I missed the memo that this wasn’t a relationship. And though I kept coming to conclusions that he led me on, he had confirmed on more than one occasion that this WASN’T just some casual shit. I realized that the biggest sign was the one thing that had bothered me most.
We RARELY did things together. He was king of “Netflix & Chill” if there ever was one. And every activity we DID do, I initiated.
“If You don’t know the purpose of a thing abuse is inevitable.”
I once asked him what my role/purpose in his life was. He said “friend” three times between filler words. We were coming up on a year of being exclusively intimate and I felt like the list should’ve been a bit broader than “friend.” I tried to see things from his perspective. He claims to be a Shy Guy and told me from jump he didn’t have many friends so I guess I should’ve been honored, but EFF THAT! F is for FRIENDS WHO DO STUFF TOGETHER! And I didn’t really feel like he wanted to do things with me.
This was possibly the hardest relationship I had to walk away from. I had learned so much about myself while with him. I challenged myself to trust & communicate in situations where I previously would’ve just ghosted. But that’s what made it necessary to walk away. Once you give to a person from places of yourself you didn’t even know existed and you don’t feel it’s reciprocated, you have to go before pieces of you start to erode.
When I attended the Sincerely Chosen Live Finale, Syreeta said something that has stayed with me. Her relationship with her children’s father was off again on again in the beginning because she was learning to love herself though loving someone else.
I think I wanna learn to love myself a little better before looking for love through friendships.