“So, Rock It”: Challenging Toxic Motherhood
On Blac Chyna and the wrath of mothers too narcissistic to love anyone else more than themselves…. Even their own children.
Blac Chyna flipped her lush Chaka Khan-inspired hair boldly and dramatically over her shoulder. After listening to her mom berate her for what seemed like an eternity to the viewer (and Chyna herself), she’s had enough. Chyna’s mother, Tokyo Toni, renowned for dragging her daughter publically, has just threatened to “rock” her world and she’s over it.
“So, rock it,” Chyna says (almost) flippantly.
Toni is apoplectic at this and I detect a hint of shock. I watched the clip on a loop on Twitter gleefully several more times, pleased to see another toxic mother put her in place and even happier to see another daughter freed.
I’ve been there.
Except in my case, my mother had physically assaulted me and I had no choice but to let the pent up rage and resentment take me and fight back. I would do it again because she deserved it. I didn’t try to hurt her, but I didn’t care either, and ultimately the onslaught of my wildly flying fists — my eyes were closed as I was crying — repelled her attack.
What started all of this? She took my then-husband aside to insult my choice of clothes. She didn’t share her disapproval for my choice of top until later, and it was to imply that I was being a slut. Boundaries are for countries to this woman, not for relationships.
When I watched that clip, I was happy that Blac Chyna was strong enough to stand up to her mother. I also recognized how tiring dealing with toxic mothers like Tokyo Toni can be. That’s why Chyna called her bluff and told her to “rock” the world she was threatening to assault. At some point you get tired of these women’s constant bloviation and wildly flying threats.
What’s mind-blowing is this is an abomination of the mother-daughter relationship and what it should be. Your children are supposed to be your world or a substantial, irreplaceable part of it. In threatening to “rock” Chyna’s world, she failed to see or acknowledge that Chyna is supposed to be her world. Why would you destroy your own world?
Since I last wrote my piece on narcissistic mothers, I’ve stopped talking to my mother many times. She will always be disrespectful and narcissistic, so I’ve come to terms and am content when we don’t talk for long stretches. There are periods where a somewhat normal relationship seems possible, but narcissistic mothers are incapable of doing any better.
It’s quite easy for me to ignore her calls, and simply respond with texts because my time is precious and I choose to invest it wisely. My children get my time. My husband gets my time. My community gets my time. My mother forfeited her time and access with each and every petty, cruel act or platitude; every disrespectful act that made me cry in front of my children. She gets the same amount of time an acquaintance would get and it’s quite easy for me to go about my life without speaking to her for months… Like an acquaintance. After all, “we are not friends” in her words.
I realize that any remorse I may feel on occasion is not because she’s my mother and I’m supposed to love her. When mothers push you away, this happens. I feel this way because I’m a human being and I believe in treating others the way I want to be treated. I don’t want to ignore her phone calls or distance myself from her any more than anyone else. I just have to in order to be free. It’s a honed defense mechanism that serves me well. It allows me to dote on my own children because I don’t have to invest time in her.
That’s the problem, though, isn’t it? If we apply that golden rule to toxic, narcissistic moms like Tokyo Toni and my own, they don’t want to be treated very well by the way they treat their children — especially their daughters. How you treat your children is a reflection of how much or little you value yourself. If a parent’s love isn’t unconditional and nurturing to their children, it’s crystal clear that they are incapable of fully loving (or even liking) themselves.
Some people will say that it’s unnecessary to single out toxic black mothers, using examples and anecdotes of their white, Asian, or Latino friends’ toxic mothers. Newsflash: There are toxic mothers in every race and community, but I can only talk about what I see in mine based on what I’ve experienced personally and as a mentor. However, the pathologies for each group aren’t cut and paste. Each community is affected by this exploitative superstructure differently, therefore their interactions will vary in some ways.
A lot of these women are toxic because they are misogynistic and sexist themselves and this leads to damaged daughters and shitty sons. A lot of these women are toxic because they never had the wherewithal, the means, or both to seek therapy for the issues that lead them to attack their own children physically, emotionally, and/or verbally.
Blac Chyna’s mother worked in an industry that thrives on racism, exploitation, misogyny, sexism, and capitalist fuckery: Pornography. This is an industry where women are chattel, little more than holes that need filling with various objects and phalluses. This is an industry where “black sluts” and “illegal teen sluts” are surrounded by men in Border Patrol or KKK (clown) garb before being set upon by these usually unattractive actors. Without the necessary self-reflection and introspection, these women will internalize the endemic hatred of women that’s canon to modern porn. And while not all of our mothers worked in such a blatantly exploitative industry, they were still affected by the system that foments and allows said industry to flourish.
That so many black women in the thread under that tweet could identify with Chyna — including myself — was heartbreaking. Toxic motherhood is fucked up no matter who you are and where you come from. It’s just that when so many black women my age all share the same stories about their mothers, it’s not just a few exceptions, it’s a problem worth looking at.
My mother only ever taught me to distrust other women and talks shit about her friends. To be fair, some of these friends are toxic themselves, so birds of a feather indeed. She was never married long enough to show me what a good marriage was or even should be. I’m figuring that out on my own as I go along, but a therapist had to do that for her. Everything I’ve learned about building healthy relationships, I learned on my own. Period.
Her disdain for other women runs so deep that she believes all women hate or are secretly out to get her, and that extended to her interactions with all women. Her under-appreciation for other black women is revolting because she judges me for doing the opposite. How the hell was I ever going to succeed and truly flourish under those conditions? And I wonder how any black woman can love herself if she doesn’t even love other black people. If you don’t, can’t, or won’t love other black people, how can you love your black daughters (and sons)?
Ultimately, the buck stops here. I’m not calling my daughter a “bitch” and I’m not insulting her looks. I won’t try to fight her for being a little rebellious and I won’t blame her (or other women for that matter) for being sexually assaulted. There’s freedom in not caring anymore. There’s freedom in severing all or some ties. My time is valuable because I have children of my own and more time for them is a plus. Hell, my peace of mind alone is priceless.
My last conversation with my mother consisted of me being cut off, interrupted, and talked over. She had called under the pretense of helping someone, only to rant about the LGBTQ community and blame women for their rapes. I could never respect anyone with such an ignorant mindset deeply. I refuse to fully bestow the honor she should be showered with because of this. I was sexually assaulted and someone blamed me for it because of what I was wearing.
To get a word in edgewise, I had to resort to the same foolishness. In doing this, I missed dinner with my family and lost precious time that I won’t ever get back. This was a mistake because I should have just hung up on her.
We have to recognize and stop perpetuating these intergenerational traumas at all costs, even if it means leaving our mothers behind to sort themselves and their choices out… Or not. Ultimately, all that matters is that we deserve to be free and loved and we must fight for that tenaciously by any means necessary.
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