Failing a Myth

In college, I met a woman who had a Theory of the Myth Black Superwoman. There was a definition, and all of the psychological ramifications of living up to the myth and failing to do so.

Lately, I have been dealing with the consequences of not living up to the myth. Somehow, Black women are supposed to be the teachers in the Black community, the supporters in the Black church, the backbone of Black families: either single mothers who don't need men, or wives who put everyone above themselves, and all the while keeping our hair permed and our nails manicured. If we are not domestic, we are lazy. If we dream of respect, we are angry. If we wait for marriage or love we are prudish and if we enjoy sex we are whores. If our habits, our language, our preferences do not align with what is stereotypically Black (including the ability to handle inordinate amounts of bullshit - sometimes, a necessary Black trait), then of course, we are crazy. There is no such thing as a weak Black woman. Such a phenomenon would be an anomaly.

By this standard, I am lazy, angry, prudish, whorish and crazy.

I would like to live up to the myth. I would like to be everything to everybody: my daddy's perfect revolutionary, my mother's perfect social worker, my brother's perfect community organizer, my professors' perfect pet, my employers perfect worker, my community's favorite advocate, my people's perfect poet, my dream's perfect spouse, and my own perfect version of myself.

In my desire to be all things, I have succeeded at becoming no thing. Nothing.

I think Blacks are looking for the Talented Tenth that DuBois rejected. Perhaps, I am still looking for the tenth within myself. And my own failure to be an acceptable negro, has led to a trail of resentment.

And, thus the problem. I lack the knowledge to be a teacher, question too much to be religious and need too much attention to be happily single. I'm not domestic. And, I've grown to accustomed to the unacceptable. The things I do, just to have someone who listens.

And, I have become a statistic. One of those black numbers that say, this percentage of blacks underperform academically. This percentage of blacks receive government assistance. This percentage of blacks can't keep a steady job. This percentage of blacks are single, unmarried.

I have become what I tried to avoid or, at least, deny.

Now, I'm dealing with the results of not living up to the Myth.