Fuck U

For the next few weeks on this blog I will be talking about LOVE and JWAUNA MARIE WASHINGTON. I will be talking about other things, but I have to talk about something that has impacted me personally in my life, which is the murder of my sister. The black community is ungrateful for black women like me. Black men are ungrateful for me, and I will NEVER publicly advocate for them. It’s been 2 years, 7 months, and 13 days since my sister has been murdered, and the same amount of time I have been grieving, NO ONE CARES. I allowed this to soak in me for the last few months after I realized all the advocacy work I have been doing for black women and children have went down the drain the moment they elevated black men over themselves. I realize that black men like my sister’s killer is included, while black women like me have been excluded. Then people have the nerve to call me bitter instead of trying to get better…. I digress….
What I learned since my sister has been murdered is that no one cares about black women, No one cared that my sister was killed. No one cared that she left behind a family of hurt black women that was left to pick up her pieces. All black people care about is black men. It enrages me that this man is included while I am excluded and left to grieve alone. I had to increase my therapy and get on medication just to heal after the BS African spiritual systems wasn’t enough, praying to Jesus wasn’t enough, and waiting for “God” takes too long when you wake up everyday not waning to be alive because the pain is unbearable. The sacrifices I made were for nothing because my number one enemy became the very community that I once loved. The only prayers that gave me hope was to the spirit.
I sit here still holding on to a bit of hope for justice, but my only words to the black community is FUCK YOU. Even when I cried out because I felt like I was being raped, and no one really cared to check up on me. Instead I was met with humiliation and ridicule from those that didn’t believe me, no matter how real it was for me. As a future social worker and counselor, I was ashamed by how many people I saw pretend to care, but when it comes to putting it into action they fall through. Caring for a wounded black woman is not met with the same motivation as it is for a wounded black men. But Black men aren’t wounded. They are starving for attention, and it hurts that no one sees it. They aren’t treated with as much callousness by their own people as I have been treated, and this time I put my pain above their complaints. I put myself and my family first over their desires for fake unity that leaves black women hung out to dry.
I cried most nights the last almost three years, and you know who was left to wipe my tears? I AM….. like it always have been my whole life. Yet I still have hope, and desires for a brighter future, so I don’t understand why others aren’t just as strong as I am expected to be by my peers and those that watch me like a hawk. I still believe that I can fly higher than an Eagle, or even a Stork. I still believe I have a fighting chance at getting what I deserve, and I didn’t have to believe in God to believe this. Instead I believed in myself when no one else did. Instead I believed in Love being more powerful than anything else it faces. I still believe in Love even when met with hatred. I still believe in healing even when I am wounded. I still believe in humanity despite the rotten apples. I still believe in myself, when everyone damn near gave up on me.
So I sit here tonight yet again thinking LOGICALLY about all that has transpired. The ONLY thing that will put a permanent smile on my face, is JUSTICE. Something that not only I, but black women deserve. JUSTICE. I’ve been so strong to not seek my own revenge like I could of easily done without remorse. People think as a black woman, I should be soft and tolerant. But what about my quest for justice, does that make me defiant? Am I only respected for my resilience? Is my ability to endure the pain seen as brilliance? I just know one thing. I feel my sister near me everyday. She’s still here motivating me every time I pray. She is still here telling me to teach what I say. But I am a rebel with a cause, and was born this way. I know she will never lead me astray. The only way for me to go is up, and I know the blessings it will bring. Even without her physically here she’s still the wind beneath my wings.
So I send out another call for justice, to whomever God I prefer. All I know is that I’ll spend my last days on Earth remembering Her. And you will never forget Her. I will never give up because I AM NOT a quitter.
From the bottom of my heart, I trusted you, and now to the community that stabbed me in the back, FUCK YOU.
Feature Image From: Kill Bill
© Tanisha R. Coleman and Visions Of A Black Herstorian, LLC 2018. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Tanisha R. Coleman and Visions Of A Black Herstorian, LLC with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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