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    Black Woman Angry No More
    Black Woman Angry No More
    Black Woman Angry No More
    Ebook139 pages3 hours

    Black Woman Angry No More

    By Che' Deering Harper

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    About this ebook

    This memoir is about me, Ché Harper, and many other young black women falling prey to life’s experiences, trials, tribulations, heartbreak, depression, and the mental conditioning of Willie Lynch. We’ve explored the impact these things left on America before we became wise and could see that, sooner or later, all black women and men fall prey to and experience ABWS (Angry Black Woman Syndrome). However, the key is not how we fall, but how we get back up
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBookBaby
    Release dateOct 10, 2015
    ISBN9781682222454
    Black Woman Angry No More

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      Book preview

      Black Woman Angry No More - Che' Deering Harper

      Enjoy!

      I: Why Are You Angry?

      The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.

      Gloria Steinem¹

      Hello, my name is Ché Deering Harper, and I am a recovering Angry Black Woman. We women have tried our best to sugarcoat this label by telling ourselves that society cannot handle a strong black female, and therefore, they refer to us as Angry Black Women. Well, my experience has taught me that, if it looks like a duck and if it quacks like a duck, then it’s a duck. So why do we, as black women, exhibit bad attitudes from time to time?

      Shortly after I started working for my current boss, I inherited the title of the Angry Black Woman. I asked my white male boss why people perceived me as being that way. He explained that it was the mean, scary, and unapproachable aura I possessed, which was not intentional on my behalf; I was actually totally unaware that I was perceived that way. As a good supervisor would do, over the next year, he constantly reminded me to be careful, smile, and always perform with the customer in mind. With some internal dialogue, I concluded that I do live life on the edge and can be defensive at times. I guess it comes from being a passionate person about damn near everything. I have been hurt deeply many times, and you can see it and hear it with every move I make. Or maybe it comes from being a black woman with a history of pain and misery and expecting the worst from life and society. Maybe it is a kind of social PTSD (long after the war is over, so to speak) for which I, or all of us, could use therapy. Nonetheless, my responses are sometimes like a fire hose, and if you are caught in the line of fire, you might get hurt. To this day, I have to constantly remind myself to check my emotions and attitude before reacting to other people or situations.

      I, like many African Americans, possess the capability to function along white standards and turn around to become your round the way girl in a matter of seconds. In the words of W.E.B Du Bois, from The Souls of Black Folk, One ever feels his twoness— an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder. That is me!

      I believe Caucasians often, whether subconsciously or consciously, use our past stereotypes against us to hinder our growth; but I also believe that we African Americans have not given our best effort to dispute the stereotypes. There are so many tools God and our country have offered us with which to launch ourselves into success that we do not use to full advantage. Therefore, we need to fully understand and break the pseudo-chains of racial bondage in order to progress. At the age of thirty, I have not experienced the full effects of racial profiling, but have experienced just enough to be disturbed and ANGRY. Unlike my paternal grandmother, I was not torched and lit on fire by a twelve-year-old white boy; nor was I spoken to like my late grandfather—who was called a nigger or boy by men half his age. I have been blessed that God gave me life in an era that did not directly expose me to those horrific experiences. However, being a black woman, I can still relate to both sides of the coin.

      Thanks to maturity, I have learned that I did not have to remain in that state of being mean, nasty, and defensive, and I do not have to be the Angry Black Woman all the time, even if I got there by default.

      So let’s be honest. Chances are, if you are reading my book, you are probably a female and probably a little bitter, or you are tired of the Angry Black Women in your life. Let’s talk about it and tell the world why we are mad.

      Your mother was an Angry Black Woman, and you have subconsciously adopted her attitude because that is what she taught you. She was hurt, damaged, and unfortunately, you had the privilege of watching it take place. Alternatively, you watched your mom go through men as if they were going out of style, and to make matters worse, some were abusive and took advantage of your mom as she worked two plus jobs just to take care of you and your siblings and to make ends meet.

      Maybe it’s because black women are the group with the highest rate of being single and unmarried in the country; meaning forty-six percent of us are alone. Black women also have the lowest rate of stable, educated, and working men available to them. We are lonely and, more importantly, sad and even depressed at times. I would find it more concerning morally if a woman in this predicament did not find herself slightly depressed. Is the absence of our black men your reason for being angry? The fact that we are raising our daughters and future men alone? You work, drop the kids off at daycare before work, and then pick them up from the recreation center following work. You jump between peewee football and cheerleading, all without any support. So there is no good cop, bad cop; Mommy is always the bad cop. If you are a single woman with no kids, you might be working to build a career during the day while studying to get a degree and better yourself. You might be managing property at night, including reading instructions on how to install some broken piece of gear in your home, all without a partner. So that leaves some of us LONELY + OVERWORKED + TIRED = An Angry Black Woman!

      You have trust issues. Dating can be difficult, considering there are also twice as many single black women as there are single black men. In America, a man’s options are plentiful, and he has a huge playing field to choose from. According to an article on the ABC News website, Single, Black, Female and Plenty of Company by Lindsey Davis and Hana Karar, …there are 1.8 million more black women than there are black men.² Now add those women who do not possess those same hardcore values you were taught, and you would have to conclude: Why should a black man commit when he has so many options? It has gotten so bad that, in 2015, some men have absolutely no desire to marry or commit, which is what our parents and grandparents lived and died for. That is what this country was built upon—families working to take care of their own and find happiness. Now you’re telling me I can’t have the American Dream? Hell, sometimes men even tell us upfront that they are not interested in a committed relationship, and we still stay with them. All along playing the fool, knowing he’s jumping from your bed to her bed to the other. Why should he commit when he knows he can have it all with no repercussions? Hell, maybe we should also consider dating white, Hispanic or Asian men and explore our options much like black males do.

      Fighting the stereotypes. We are one of the most stereotyped groups in the world. Those stereotypes are endless and often lead to us being passed over for promotions and professional opportunities. Our education and skills are undervalued simply because of our style, accent, complexion, and/or size. Moreover, for whatever reasons, we always find ourselves working at least a LITTLE bit harder to be more than the average Angry Black Woman. To be honest, it is exhausting, and it can make you angry.

      My research indicates these are some of the top reasons black women are alone and angry. However, we do not have to stay that way. Let’s do something about it. The Threat Meter below was made just for me by my co-workers as I was going through my personal evolution. Place it at your desk and in your wallet and work toward the No Threat level. If you find you have difficulty maintaining No Threat levels ninety percent of the time, then you may need extra help. Once you find yourself approaching the Ghetto Level on the Threat Meter, remove yourself from the situation immediately. Try meditating, going outdoors, exercising, traveling, therapy, or learning a new self-improvement technique. They worked for me, along with praying. This is not a good time to make sound decisions; walk away. If people talk about you behind your back, let them. Take this time for you!

      BLACK WOMAN SELF-HELP:

      Are you an Angry Black Woman? Why are you angry? What is your current threat level?

      1 Gloria Steinem, Goodreads. http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/11090-the-truth-willset-you-free-but-first-it-will.

      2 Linsey Davis and Kana Harar. Single, Black, Female—and Plenty of Company. ABC News December 22, 2009. Accessed September 1, 2015. http://abcnews.go.com/Nightline/single-black-females/story?id=9395275.

      II: Marriage

      It’s not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages.

      Friedrich Nietzsche, Nietzsche and Marriage

      On the day of my wedding, I was three months pregnant with my second child and suffering from the worst case of morning sickness imaginable. Hiding my pregnancy was probably more nerve-racking than jumping the broom. The ceremony and reception were beautiful. There were two hundred guests at the Virginia Beach Crowne Plaza, a wedding party of over fifteen bridesmaids and groomsmen, and family from all over the country.

      Did I mention it rained and rained some more?

      If you asked my grandmother, rain on my wedding day was the first sign my marriage was predestined to fail. If nothing else, it was definitely a day covered by Murphy’s Law. If anything could go wrong, it did.

      Personally, I say the real sign was when my best friend betrayed me by telling my parents I was hiding my second pregnancy. But maybe it was when one of my bridesmaids fainted at the altar. My mom says my marriage was doomed when the entire groomsmen gang entered the wedding ceremony wearing gold fronts as if they were attending a Little Wayne concert.

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