Chil’ren, a bitch must apologize for the delay! Bit-ness had to be taken care of this morning! All is done and my ass has some shit to say!
Last night a bitch settled down with a vodka cran to watch the PBS documentary on Ralph Ellison. My ass hasn’t cracked open Invisible Man since college, but a bitch was fascinated to learn more about the man behind the novel.
After watching the documentary a bitch sat and philosophically sipped my vodka with ice followed by cran and allowed the subject to settled in my mind.
How many of us are invisible? How many of us live on the margins of society? How many times have we walked by someone and never really registered that they were there?
Confessions of a Former Invisible Bitch…
A bitch grew up in very white St. Louis County. On the first day of kindergarten, my ass was shunned and called a nigger to my face. When a wee bitch shared this with my mother, she counseled me to pull my ass together (there were a lot of tears) and to learn to “live this life black”. This bitch interpreted that to mean that my ass should learn to live under the scorn of others. A bitch developed coping skills that included angry glares and a general ability to sit silent for hours in the back of the classroom.
As a wee bitch grew into a young adult my coping skills were perfected. By the time a bitch arrived at college my ass was an invisible bitch. Imagine a young black woman moving within society but never really being seen…that was ABB in college for the first semester.
Second semester a bitch came out as an AngryBlackBitch…silent curses became loud verbal rants and the mask of anger replaced the mask of indifference. ABB the black militant radical feministah was born.
But a bitch has a confession. My ass didn’t throw the mask away. A bitch entered the workplace and was immediately thrown back into the same world that confronted my ass the first day of kindergarten. To my shame, this bitch retrieved the mask. And so it continued for several years…a bitch in disguise and invisible in plain sight.
In 2000 a bitch discovered a lump in my belly. My ass freaked out because it was clearly not a gas bubble. Without telling anyone, this bitch hurried to Planned Parenthood to get the lowdown. The lump was in my lower abdomen and my ass wasn’t even sure it was a Planned Parenthood worthy thing but it was the weekend and this bitch would be damned if that shit was going to wait until Monday! The nurse was wonderful and it turned out that a bitch had fibroids, which are nasty fast growing non-cancer containing tumors that grow in a woman’s uterus.
A bitch was referred to a gynecologist and set up an appointment. The appointment changed my life forever.
My fibroids were of the worst-case nature. They were large and would have to be surgically removed. No laser and outpatient convenience for a bitch…these motherfuckers required the knife and staples and all manner of drama!
A bitch promptly named my tumor Enid and strategized with my surgeon on the best way to kill her.
Fast-forward to the day of the surgery. A bitch sat down with my sister to sign the hospital forms. It hit me that my ass was signing a form that acknowledged my possible death. A bitch was so stunned that my ass cruised through the pre-op in a daze. Dead, death, die…would a bitch die?
If a bitch died on the table how would my ass be remembered?
As the mask.
The surgery was a success and Enid was murdered with no complications. Once my ass ran through the fantasmic meds and my mind cleared a bitch resolved to come out as an AngryBlackBitch once more.
People might not like me, but they sure as fuck will know the real bitch that they don’t like.
November 18th is the anniversary of the death of Enid and the second coming of an AngryBlackBitch. My ass will celebrate it by keeping it real and being authentically me. My scar, which runs from my belly button on down to the valley of paradise, is a reminder to be real and never be invisible again.
Are you living life invisible?
If so, are you ready to be visible?
How do you want to be remembered...?