Seven Minutes| Who Will Protect Black Women in America

“People fear what they can’t control and the Black woman’s spirit is free and untamed, consuming yet gentle. There are generations of pain and sacrifice flooding through our genetic makeup. Black women are feared yet preyed upon in America. How the hell are we supposed to feel protected?” — QJH
I was gifted with an On The Run II ticket for the Miami show. After the past two weeks, I was really looking forward to a sophisti-ratchet evening with my good friend. As soon as we touched down at the Hard Rock Stadium we made our way to concessions to get our share of libations before the main event started. After ordering some drinks we made our way to our seats and had an amazing experience watching The Carters perform our favorite songs.
They closed out with APE$HIT and that was everything I needed to end my sophisti-ratchet night. I was feeling good, I was vibing, I was so happy and grateful for the experience. Nothing could steal the #blackgirljoy that took over me. The only thing left to complete my night was to purchase the OTR 2 tour book for my book collection. I guess it never dawned on me that other people would be trying to buy merch as well so we were greeted by a 30-minute line. I just watched Queen Bey and Jay Z, not even a 30-minute line could kill my vibe.
We were making strides in the line and almost finally at the purchasing table. The next thing I know, I felt this big dude bump me then stopped over me to talk to the guy in front of me. We were still touching and he was all up in my personal space. I tapped him so that he could acknowledge what he was doing and that I was still standing there. I said, “Excuse me, you bumped me and you’re standing right over me.” He turned around and replied, “I said excuse me so I could talk to my brother.” I knew that was code for my brother is standing there and I’m trying to skip all these people.
At this point I’m annoyed because he is still in my personal space and it’s hot. So I replied, “Saying excuse me and forcing me to move out the way are two different things.” Then he responded, “So you not going to move out the way so I can talk to my brother?”
Now I’m completely over his ego. I told him, “Nah, Maybe I’m not moving.” After all, it was my right to decide if I wanted to move out the way. I was standing there minding my business way before he even walked up. He didn’t even give me the choice to move and after his misogynistic vibes, I opted to not have it around me. I guess he wasn’t customary to women telling him no because he made sure to shove me aggressively with his shoulder to move me anyway before turning back around to finish his conversation. My instant reflex pushed him back and I yelled, “What’s your problem, are you crazy?”
PAUSE
Before I continue with the story, I want to establish a name for this overly grown boy who has made me sit in reflection and wonder why my friend and I were treated this way. I am privy to our struggle as Black women. I’ve dealt with many experiences in corporate settings, with my choices of Black men I chose to explore relationships with, but never to this magnitude. This very public seven-minute disrespectful and demeaning encounter with a Black man gave me a reality check that I still feel in my gut.
There are a plethora of names I could choose, but I’ll just call him Mr. Narcissist.
RESUME
Mr. Narcissist is a Black male standing about 6’2, stocky athletic build to my 5’2 petite frame. After he shoved me with his shoulder and I pushed him back, he turned to face me and then pushed me with his hands in my chest as if I was his equal. I was filled with shock and rage. He then looked as if he was ready to fight. My friend and I lunged at him to stop him in his tracks. We both start yelling at him to back up. I kept yelling, “Look at my size and look at yours.” I am typically a mellow and calm person but when I feel threatened, I am not ever afraid to stand my ground.
I knew fighting this man physically was not possible but I needed to cut him deep with my words. He called me a bitch and every name besides my own while trying to justify putting his hands on me. I get the feeling he believed the whole situation was my fault because I refused to move from a space I had waited 25 minutes to get to. I had no problem letting him know that he was corny and lame for trying to get physical with two women.
Now the situation started to escalate and turned into a scene. Two women, one Black and one Hispanic, walked up with another Black guy and stood there watching the interaction between Mr. Narcissist, my friend and myself. The Black woman walked up to Mr. Narcissist and murmurs something to me after speaking with him. When I finally make out what she is saying, she tells me to chill because she will fight me. Thinking about this now, it’s truly laughable and disheartening at the same time. Another Black woman who wasn’t even there to see what took place, jumps to this man’s defense and makes threats for a man that’s not even hers (I would later find out). It’s official Mr. Narcissist has minions to laugh at his corny remarks degrading Black women and have no problem fighting his battles as well.
I told the woman who approached me that I really didn’t care about what she was talking about. With rage now causing my whole body to grow hot, I dismissed her to save her and save myself from being behind bars and not making it back home to my baby girl. I think she got the picture because she disappeared to the background and remained silent for the rest of the time. The petite Hispanic woman who was a part of Mr. Narcissist’s entourage tried to defuse the situation with a dismissive comment, “Guys, it’s not that deep.” I replied to her, “As a woman, don’t ever tell another woman it’s not that deep for a man to put his hands on her.” She had nothing to say.
Mr. Narcissist is still making remarks loudly about us being so angry even though he said “excuse me.” He proceeded to call us angry bitches and tell the crowd women like us stay mad.
The infamous brother that Mr. Narcissist insisted on speaking to turned around and said “This is making us look bad, this is why they think this way of us.” But not once did he try to intervene and stop his brother from trying to fight two Black women. My response was simple, “Don’t say shit to me.”
Now, I hear Mr. Narcissist yelling at the petite Hispanic woman, “Who side are you on?” repeatedly. After forcing her to say aloud that she was on his side, he then responds, “Ok, shut the fuck up then.”
Even though she tried to dismiss the whole situation earlier, the woman in me had to speak up for her. No woman deserves to be spoken to in that way, especially in public with bystanders around, or in this case in front of a group of friends. I yelled out, “Don’t speak to her like that.” He quickly defended his comment, “This is my wife of 12 years, I’ll speak to her however I please, bitch.”
She said nothing.
Her group of friends said nothing.
Her “Guys, it’s not that deep” comment was not only dismissive but also submissive. This was her husband acting out in a way she already knew too well.
In the midst of all the chaos, snares, and insults, a gang of stadium security walked up to the line to see what the noise was all about. The officers walked straight to my friend and I to say, “If you want to buy the merch, turn around and shut up or else we will shut the whole line down.”
Now I am angry and also very confused about how they managed to come directly to us and blame us for the whole scene. We even tried to explain that Mr. Narcissist was the one who physically assaulted me. They didn’t want to hear anything further. They just wanted us to stop acting like animals and for the angry Black women to shut up. Truthfully, I am thankful that’s all that happened given all of the Black women who were slain at the hands of law enforcement exercising their authority and power.
In that moment, I had to think about Nola and making it home to her. Nothing else would’ve kept me from creating havoc in that line. I went from watching two of my favorite entertainers perform and experiencing true #blackgirljoy to being made out to be an angry Black woman in the matter of seven minutes.
I turn around to move forward in the line embarrassed that this even happened or escalated the way it did. I became silent. I purchased my tour book. There is a man in the line saying, “I don’t get why she is so mad, he said excuse me.” There was another Black girl standing in front of me the whole time and after she made her purchase she whispered to me, “I hope you have a better rest of your night,” as she turned around to walk away. All of those people stood around and watched this happen and not one came to our defense. They already had it in engraved in their mind that they are Black women, so they must be angry about something. No one viewed us as worthy of being protected.
In seven minutes, I was entangled in every Black woman’s plight in America as if I don’t have to already live it every day when I leave my house.
Are you angry? You need to smile. Don’t express your feelings too aggressively. She is not easy to speak to. She’s not that enthusiastic. Don’t speak up for yourself, you will come off as problematic. Don’t speak too loudly, you may intimidate those around you.
That’s not even touching on what we have to deal with in relationships. She’s strong, she can take anything I give her. Don’t come off as too independent. Don’t speak your mind or question anything your man does so you won’t nag him or chase him away. Ride for your man no matter what. Be softer. Drop the attitude. Get your hair done. Take care of home. Raise the children. Let him know you need him. What you don’t do in the bedroom, the next woman will. Be happy that you at least have a man.
We deal with all of this out in the world and have to come home to who we are supposed to be protected by and still have to prove we are worthy or wear a mask to not intimidate our partners. We birth Black men, only for them to grow up and view us as not being worthy of saving, protecting, or nourishing.
In dissecting Mr. Narcissist’s reaction toward me, I know he looked at me and thought nothing of putting his hands on me. He probably believed I didn’t have a man or anyone that cherished me because of the way I stood my ground with him. I was supposed to laugh it off, show my teeth, bat my lashes and dismiss his actions to be seen as a woman by him.
He kept yelling women like “us” stay mad. I was in the line minding my own business, ready to buy merchandise with my money that I earned honestly, and go home to my daughter. I actually was very happy. I would’ve let the whole situation go after letting him know that he was standing on top of me. It was his “get over it” attitude followed by shoving me with his shoulders that took me over the edge. I would never speak on anyone’s marriage but I know men like him too well and can guess that his wife allows that kind of treatment based on how quickly she got quiet after being told to shut the fuck up.
For a woman like myself to call him out, reverting to calling me mad and angry was the easiest thing he could do to place the blame on someone other than himself. He would probably kill another man for treating his petite Hispanic wife the way he treated us. Everyone standing around watching this encounter proved his beliefs about us to be right because no one came to our defense. No one corrected him. In that moment we were protecting ourselves but everyone took it as angry Black women doing what they do best.
In 1962, Malcolm X said, “The most disrespected woman in America is the Black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the Black woman. The most neglected person in America is the Black woman.” I am filled with grief because it’s 2018 and nothing has changed. The year he made this speech, my mother was born. Here I am dealing with the reality of this quote and I am now grown with a daughter of my own. The cycle is still going. Who will protect Black women in America?
I wonder what would’ve happened if I was a White woman or Hispanic. Would he have been so aggressive with me, would he even touch me? Would the security walk up and take our side then escort him out of the line? Would anyone standing around speak up?
Solange’s “A Seat At The Table” is still my go-to album when I need to clean my house or uplift my spirit. On the album, her song “MAD” talks about being angry and trying to explain is draining because no matter how we put it, no one will understand or genuinely try to. The problems of Black women in America has been overlooked since slavery because we were conditioned to deal with and bear weights of everything and everyone around us. This country was built off the blood, sweat, and tears of Black women. This country has been programmed to believe that the struggle of Black women is null and void because we’ve managed to move so gracefully while being beat down daily.
We are mad, but I am here to tell you that it has shit to do with passive aggressive emails in the workplace or encounters with insecure narcissist men. We are tired of having to compete and prove ourselves to be worthy. We are tired of being disrespected by our own Black men that we continue to love and stand by. We are tired of having to fight for scraps only to be called angry in the end. We are tired of our attributes and culture being appropriated without them having to experience our struggle. We are tired of burying our children and having our sons viewed as threats. We are tired of being viewed as too aggressive. We are drained and we are tired.
I started internalizing the seven-minute encounter. In doing so, my mind started drifting to forgiveness. I feel as Black women we are always encouraged to be the ones to forgive. We are told letting go, walking away, and forgiving will give us the peace of mind we are seeking in our healing process. I started telling myself I forgive him before I even fully allowed myself to feel what I needed to feel to wholeheartedly move on. The truth is, there is a part of me that is bruised. There is a part of me that is still shaken because what will it be like the next time?
I am not going to let this experience create a submissive or fearful spirit within me. Going through my timeline, I found this quote, “Sometimes God will put a Goliath in your life, for you to find the David within you.” I can agree that this situation was a Goliath. In the physical sense and also metaphorically. There I was face to face with this man towering over me. It threatened me and tried to make me afraid but I didn’t back down. When the smoke cleared, it gave me a deeper perspective of myself and the tribe of women I believe I was sent here to uplift. Everything I create is with Black women in mind. The David in me is searching for the right answer to the question “who will protect Black women in America?”
I believe being a Black woman is a badge of honor that comes with so much glory. It is up to us to protect ourselves and each other. We have to teach our daughters and most importantly our sons to respect and cherish that badge of honor. Prepare our children young for Black Womanhood and Manhood in America by instilling in them how magical and great they are.
If we could travel back to Mr. Narcissist’s childhood I am sure that we would find someone failed him. They probably never gave him the support or affirmation he needed to feel safe and loved. Lashing out on women who reminds him of that pain is how he copes. When a bruised ego has an audience, especially an audience that is providing validation and no accountability, it allows toxicities to grow.
On The Carters “Everything Is Love,” the last lines of song 713 reads, “America is a motherfucka to us, lock us up, shoot us, Shoot our self-esteem down, we don’t deserve true love. Black queen, you rescued us, you rescued us, rescued us.”
I just wished he would’ve added let’s rescue our Black queens.
