Impromptu Poetry: Black Woman Working

I didn’t get called out my name today, but something took place that stings just the same.
Of only four black women on my job, I was repeatedly called by another black woman’s name.
See I heard it the first time, I figured the supervisor, white male wasn’t talking about me, so I kept on working.
Still seated, he called this other name again.
I kept on working. His glance was toward my direction, but surely after all this time, he knew the difference, see because me
and that other beautiful queen,
we have completely different job titles.
She’s tall with milky chocolate skin and straight hair.
I’m average height, with more of a vanilla latte kind of complexion, with wild, kinky hair.
The supervisor stood up walking toward me, firmly saying this other woman’s name, then reached me. Face-to-face.
Sure as he knew his own name, he looked me in the face and said her name again, somewhat annoyed, determined to assert his power and my apparent lack of hearing, illuminating my percieved defiance.
And then playfully, but not really so…
I look him square in the eye
repeat the incorrect name he kept calling me, to my face.
My face playfully but not really so, exaggerated and quizzical I repeat the name like a question lilting my voice upward with a sonic question mark to let the name that is not mine hang in the air for dramatic effect.
My supervisors face turns twisted exposed by his error. But instead of an apology, excuses of a heavy workload and demanding schedule leaves his lips.

Another swallowed microaggression. Tiny amounts of poison ingested daily is still ingestion of poison just the same.

Picking battles.

I dress up my discomfort and grievances, with a well-timed joke or self-deprecating humor to disarm the proud, scared competitive. Meanwhile my excellence and competence and mastery of what it is I know, what helps you look like a good leader and enabling the pay gap between you and I to grow wider, even if I someday replaced you…

Is all in a day’s work for me.

Being me in this world is like being asked to walk a tightrope in high heels, while wearing a mask restricting my breath and limiting my sight while carrying a person on my back at the same time.

I’m amazed by a dual, dueling expectation of success and failure thrust upon my shoulders.

But I keep exceeding expectations, while more gets piled on, because at this rate, under these kinds of circumstances, eventually I’m supposed to break.

You must not know about me.

You must not know my history.

But how can I expect you to…

You’re still struggling with the basics…

Like remembering my name.

That thong, tha, thong, thong, thong.

I was preparing for a date yesterday when one of my dearest friends dropped by to catch up.

“Make yourself useful and help me figure out what to wear on this date,” I said.

I tend to think that I have an excellent sense of style. I love reading fashion magazines and blogs, I get a kick out of helping other people come up with outfits for special occasions. I’ve read that Aquarian women have the tendency to mix and match things and pull stuff off that if other folks tried, it would be a disaster. We can be quirky and comfortable in our skin. And I do believe that, the fashion risks I take, I’m way more riskier than the majority of my friends, but I feel wherever I am, I’m always appropriate.

This particular night I was quite nervous about how my ensemble was going to turn out, because my date is actually a pretty fashionable guy. I’ve never seen him without a blazer or a nice sweater. I’m used to being the better dressed one out of a couple, so I have to say, this person makes me really think about what I decide to put on.

After switching out a number of tops, to go with a very lovely soft white sweater and jeans and high-heeled booties with just the right necklace, my friend reminded me to please, please not ruin it all by having a panty line. I argued that I was going to put on my seamless undies, because thongs get on my nerves.

I came back out and twirled around, my butt did look like a box rather than a lovely round mound. It wasn’t flattering.

So I reached in the panty drawer, dug around and found my one and only thong.

“You only have one thong?” my friend asked in disbelief.

I told her yes, and it was the most comfortable one I’ve ever had. But she was right, my butt did look awesome and natural in my jeans and it reinvigorated my interest in Sisqo’s muse in the early 2000s. The only problem is, I need a soft comfy thong, I just don’t want a string in my butt.

The thong conversation and even getting ready for a date reminded me of actually caring about my appearance and being excited about the potential of something and actually wanting to impress and be my best.

I won’t lie, I’ve been dating for a very long time and I’ve taken on an attitude that people should take me as I am, and I haven’t been putting in a lot of effort. I’ve either been waiting for a man to do something that blows me away, or for him to mess up beyond belief so I can get rid of him.

But some of that is on me, you do have to put your best foot forward and if you are interested in someone showing your interest by looking your best does say a lot about you and your intentions. I don’t think anyone does try to look like a slob when they go out on a date, but in general society has become very casual about a lot of things and it shows in the way we dress. So, I have been thinking about my “wow” factor and how to not take people in your life for granted and that sometimes you do have to step it up, put on some heels and wear a thong…

So I’ll see yall later. Looks like if got some underwear shopping to do…

Treat Yo Self To Some ‘Good Jewelry’

Every now and then, a woman should walk into a jewelry store– not your favorite accessory spot, but a straight up jewelry store and buy yourself a piece.
We often place the role of special jewelry hunting to significant others.
Sometimes we hint, or tell folks what we want and we hope around Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day or an anniversary, we’ll get that shiny object of desire.
Well, I’m single.
And for some reason, while I don’t mind getting jewelry from a lover or a loved one (rare occasions) I tend to buy myself a piece of jewelry as a symbol of power and loving myself. It’s a special moment, because I don’t do it often and I’m discriminating about my selection.
Maybe it’s a special moment to me, because I know I like to wear a lot of costume jewelry, so when I’m ready to throw down real cash for a certain piece, it means so much more.
Fairly recently I purchased a new watch.
I’m very picky about watches and it takes me a long time to find just the right one. Nothing that’s too plain, nothing that’s too dainty, but not too thick and masculine either… not gaudy, but classic. Something I’d reach for when I want to make a statement about my style without saying a word.
I had worn a silver Guess watch for probably the last 12 years. It had been with me through the ups and downs and there was even one moment I was heartbroken when I thought I lost it in Chicago. Thankfully my boyfriend at the time found it. I was so relieved. Sure, I could have had another watch, but it was so much a part of my daily life, it was like me putting on my glasses every day. For the last couple of years, I’d been saying I need a new watch or at least a different watch if I’m not wearing silver jewelry.
So in my mind, I decided I would upgrade from Guess and make sure I chose either a black watch or one that was rose gold.
I always buy my good jewelry during random moments. That old Guess watch I purchased as a student from Lord and Taylor. I felt fancy just buying it.
My new watch, I bought from Macy’s and they were actually having a great sale on all of their watches, it was too good to be true. And after trying on a black one and a rose gold one, I found it and I’ve been loving it.
Interestingly enough, I’ve only been breaking out the rose gold for special occasions. I continue to wear my Guess watch to work. We should have special items for special times that make us feel like we shine.
Today, I bought a lovely ring. Once again it was a random situation, and ironically enough in another store, my dear friend asked me how I choose my accessories.
“They speak to me. And then I can see in my mind how they look with certain outfits I have at home. The thing is all of this stuff will be speaking to you. Some even screaming (those you leave alone, they are probably ugly and gaudy) So you have to just relax and go with what gravitates to you.”
Welp, we made our way to an official jewelry store and that’s just what happened. I was drawn to a rose gold ring with a white sapphire stone because it looked like an antique, it looked timeless and it was on sale for a great price. Shortly after my engagement ended I bought a little sterling silver ring with black stones and I can’t wear it anymore it’s too small. So I decided, I needed an even better ring that just would suit me and my style. And there she was. My goal of being in the store was actually for my friend, but I kept coming back to it. There were other rings, but that one seemed to be the one. It spoke to me.
I like those moments when I decide to treat myself with these kinds of trinkets. I’ve only done it one other time, when I bought my silver pearls and a silver cuff and recently I’ve gotten on the Pandora bandwagon. Those charms suck you in. But it’s a nice reminder to treat yourself, to love yourself and that it’s okay to acknowledge your own beauty and fabulousness through nicer jewelry from time to time.

I always tend to buy myself nice jewelry to commemorate a new phase in my life, the end of a relationship to remind me that I’m important, the beginning of a new career. And today, I think I bought the ring because I’m ready to commit myself to a new start, I’m in a good place and I’m blessed. I can support my friends with a full heart as they embark on new relationships and not think about where I may lack in love. I wasn’t always there, and that deserves a treat!!!
S