Isn’t that an AI woman? The real pain experience of black girls
A common thought has played in my mind over the past two weeks.
The idea of black girls’ pain and the negative experiences black women have on a daily basis just because they are – both black and female.
Today I had an experience where I was almost intentionally run over by two black men as a scare tactic because I ignored their scream.
Also earlier today:
A Vietnamese man kicked me out of his nail salon after I told him I didn’t like my nails.
A millennial black couple talked shit and laughed to each other about “fighting” while I waited for my dumplings at a Thai restaurant.
The black bus driver yelled at me for taking two seconds to pull out my MetroCard.
Finally, I had a panic attack and broke down in tears because a black counterpart had constantly fought with me at my workplace.
It all happened in one day.
A day when I was already experiencing a lot of anxiety. One day when, the day before, I didn’t have a good night’s sleep. One day when I had a stomach ache.
If you’ve got a smart brain, you might be thinking, “Well, that might be a reflection on you, lady, what did you do to bring this about? “
But as a conscious and honest person I tell you – nothing really.
All of these occasions happened mostly with strangers, mostly other minorities, mostly for stupid and trivial reasons, and mostly in cases where I was not an abuser.
Was I in a bad mood today? Yes. Hell yeah. Maybe this negative energy was being felt, but I didn’t deserve the way I was treated.
When a white woman is in a bad mood, people feel sympathy, when a black woman is in a bad mood, people feel anger?
The thought is never, “Awe, she’s having a bad day, hope she’s feeling better” or “I wonder what she’s going through”.
This brings me to the biggest conversation I’ve had with myself about the world’s lack of empathy for black girls.
When people think of black women, they already have stories in mind of who and how they think we are.
They think small of us.
Before we open our mouths, we are already fighting an uphill battle of mental perception.
People think of the way black women are painted in pop culture.
Ghetto. Strong. Aggressive.
A good example of this is when I was in Miami.
A group of Hispanic women were arguing with a group of black women.
As one of the Hispanic women begins to throw physical plates at black women, she shouts out loud to them, “you ghetto bitches, you are so from the ghetto”. As if being the person throwing the plates was classy and sophisticated?
It baffled me.
But then, and understand this – security started pushing black women.
But worse than the negative outward perception is the fact that there is really no one on a black girl’s side. – not even the other black women.
We hate each other, gossip and have issues with each other despite understanding that the whole world is not for us. Not white women, not black men, not white men…. so, in addition to the lack of sympathy and empathy for us, we also lack empathy for one another.
For my part, among other black women, I have experienced the most anger, jealousy and pure vitriol.
I have had more acts of violence perpetrated against me by black men than any other demographic on earth. No more threats. No more “bitch this, * bitch that,” no more disrespect.
Most of the time, I don’t feel safe in my own skin, with my own parents. It’s quite strange for me because I’m a Haitian immigrant who grew up in a black country.
It was an emotional day and most of all, I am tired.
I’m sick of having these kinds of experiences.
I’m sick of being treated like shit.
I’m sick of assholes.
I’m sick of being anxious.
But more importantly, I’m fed up with the fact that black women are unprotected, unloved and dangerous.
I don’t know what will fix this, I’m just here to capture the emotion.
More for you on YourTango:
Benedith Laure is a Haitian American writer from New York. His writing focuses on poetry, cultural commentary, observations of life and business. To learn more about her work, follow her on Medium.
This article originally appeared on Medium. Reprinted with permission from the author.