It never dawned on me that I was turning into stone. Like Lots Wife who looked back. She turned around to face the burning city that she had known and loved, and the anguish that she had experienced was enough to turn her into solid rock. But she had been warned.
I sometimes imagine what kind of rock she turned into. Was her soul still present within somewhere? Or was she solidified in space and time, eternally? Her punishment for looking back.
I remember a song by Laurn Hill circa 1998. It was called "That Thing". The song is still one of my favorites because of its lyrical content. In one verse of the song she spews a lesson to young ladies: "...don't be a hard rock when you really are a Gem, baby girl, respect is just a minimum...", by far one of the most powerful statements of the song.
I think about that hard rock that Lauryn Hill talked about. And also about the Gem.
The figurative relationship between a rock and a young woman as opposed to a Gem, and the role that respect plays in that whole situation.
By allowing yourself to be disrespected, mainly by demeaning yourself for the usage of others, and the repetition thereof, you could turn to stone. Wow.
For years, I thought I was cute. Lol. I really did. I thought I was cute because boys liked me. I had a beautiful bronzed chocolate complexion, the highly criticized, yet highly desired super-curvaceous body that black women are known for (from the time I was 13), and I had the attitude of the Harlem streets that I grew up in. And it seemed to get me into a lot of trouble.
I had a daddy. At first. He was around. Him and my mom divorced when I was 12. He payed child support and make guest appearances at major events like graduation.
Mom was what held my family together. Family members split. Aunts a mystery - although one of my aunts really helped my family alot, at least for my teen years. Cousins a mystery. My grandmother on my mothers side, whom I love Dearly passed away when I was 10 from Pancreatic Cancer. All I had was my mother, my two sisters, and my brother.
We joined a religious organization. Trying to find friends. It backfired. My family re-grouped. As we were changing, our family structure changed a little. I started to rebel. I was confused and hurt and lonely. No one for support. No one to help me except my family. School work started to suffer. And when I was 15 and in the 10th grade, I was told I wouldnt graduate on time at the rate I was going. I was highly intelligent. So I knew that not graduating on time was something I didnt want to happen. I had to graduate on time. I had to get an education. No amount of rebelling could take away that value that had been instilled in me.
In my mind, no one understood me and my hurt. No one cared. My mother, who beared much pain in labor and thereafter, stood by my side always. My mother never gave up on me and I will always appreciate it. But the love I lacked from my father was missing, and it definetely made a difference. When I was younger, I knew that I could take on the world...I knew I didn't need anyone. But I realized as I got older that I was hurt by the absence of my daddy. I was hurt that he wasn't there.
I loved attention when I got it. At the age of fifteen, the only people who gave me any positive feedback were men. Boys too, but the men gave me manly attention. I was told I was beautiful, one guy even told me I was a 'Black Queen', lol. I laugh about it now. But its not funny. I was desired. Because my body turned men on. I wasn't valued because of who I was. I was desired and objectified.
I was being objectified, but since back then I didn't know what objectification was, I was at a disadvantage. I didn't know I was turning to stone. But I was.
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