Good Teachers Are More Humble Than They Deserve To Be,
Great Teachers Know Exactly What They Are
In the 1990s En Vogue tried to tell us that men were making money by trashing women. We didn’t listen because most of us, Black or not, weren’t really allowed to have that conversation.
That was “grown folks business,” and by the time we were old enough to have that conversation, most of our Black aunties and grannies were out of our lives. I am that person. I am that person. I’m ready to have that conversation and I don’t have any Black people in my life.
Not in my 3-D human life, and this is not by design, it was an accident. My mother had to cut herself off from toxicity to keep us safe, and so the only teachers I had that were Black came from the music that I was either allowed to listen to or had to sneak into the house.
Years ago on a forum board for roleplayers, a Black writer whose name I do not know, said she got made fun of for being goth and that was always my greatest fear.
I was heavily into Poe, and I was heavily into heavy metal music, but I was afraid that if I dressed the way I wanted to, I would get made fun of. Turns out it didn’t matter what I wore I got made fun of, so when I started to cultivate my own identity the abusers in my life would find a way to put me back in my place. Usually through violent and vicious sexual assault.
I even had one of my friend’s sons become one of my near murderers, so I mean it wasn’t my clothing, it wasn’t the way I acted, it was the way I didn’t act.
I wasn’t myself. I made myself meek hoping someone would protect me but no one did, literally no one. I had to protect myself, and I did that, with all the crazy inside my own twisted little mind, and now that I have, people are surprised that I shaved my head.
While, Brittney, You taught me a lot. More than you think.
I learned that in 39 years no one will ever let you be yourself as long as they think you can be taken down by them.
It took Brittney 20 fucking years to free herself from the people holding her back and as soon as she was free, she went back to being herself and people said she looked sad.
Of course, she did, one battle against confinement after a lifetime of battles for freedom doesn’t make one happy. You don’t suddenly get happy just because NOW you’re free after fighting for twenty years. You’re fucking tired, exhausted, and yet you’re still getting up and doing the thing you love because for you, your art — the medium with which you craft your art — is singing and dancing.
For me, it’s creating images on the computer and it took me a really long time to find the right tools, to learn how to use them the way that “I” want to, and now no one wants to buy because “too expensive.”
Let me teach you what you’re paying for when you support an artist:
- Our fucking meals. Yeah bitch, we need to eat motherfucker, because if we don’t get enough of the right foods we get hemoglobin problems that make it fucking impossible to enjoy life. Welcome to my world.
- We get anxiety and depression, and then have to go to a doctor when in reality the problem is that we’re just not fucking eating enough, which is causing paranoia, stress, trauma, and trauma to compound on itself over and over again forcing us to relive horrible nightmares over and over again because we can’t break the cycle because we’re fucking HUNGRY.
- We lose weight, or gain weight due to being hungry — because we are either not eating enough, or alternatively, we can’t compress food in our diets the way other people do, OR because we’re eating crap because that’s all we can afford if we’re eating at all.
- You’re paying for our mental health so we don’t break down and cry and get burned out trying to impress you with our art so that we know that we can keep going and doing the thing that we love doing while not having to worry about having rent to pay or roofs over our heads.
- You’re literally paying to keep us alive.
I mean, if that doesn’t mean anything to you why the fuck are you reading this right now?
Sending all my love,
P.S. Please note my content is free, my shop is not.
Devon J Hall, The Loud Mouth Brown Girl