***NEWLY RELEASED***

WHO DO MEN SAY THAT I AM?

“You little B” he muttered under his breath as the officer jerked his arm while grinning and leading him away from the porch. That night was not unusual. It wasn’t the first time the law had to be called to rescue the wimp mother and take the bully dad around the corner to “cool off”. He might have been a little more pissed off this time because I told them he had a gun, but he should have been able to see the rebel brewing—surely he didn’t believe I liked living in that house or agreed with what was happening, and the older I got, the bolder I got. I figured, at some point, someone had to stop crying and stand up to the bully; mom surely couldn’t be counted on to take a stand. I certainly loved my mother, but didn’t understand her for the life of me. Why did she continue to stay with someone who beat the crap out of her? Surely she didn’t think that was love? Ironically, I would understand her better from her deathbed than I was ever able to make sense out of while she was living.

Judging from the half grin on the officer’s face, I knew he was fighting back the laughter because he was on duty. Calling a child out of her name might have seemed funny to him, but it was no laughing matter to me. While I always knew Bobbie disliked me, hearing those words still hurt. I was always perplexed over the contradictions of people’s words and their actions. I was only a child, teenager--but still a child. How could anyone say that about his or her own daughter? To someone they were supposed to love? 

            It would be years before I fully understood what the “B” word meant, and then I had to learn its various usages—by those who claim to love you, by those who are intimidated by you and by those who absolutely hated you.  In Corporate America, we’re referred to as “Bs” for getting the job done.  On the streets you’re referred to as a “B” when you don’t give the fellows the “time of day”, and sadly, I’ve heard moms address their daughters as little “Bs”. The label was so overly used, that as a young adult my girlfriends and I used it as a greeting to one another—what up B! Now how many of you have been guilty of at least one of these usages? Ahhhhhhh fess up—it’s just you and me.

            I don’t agree with the overly used “N” word that’s thrown around so casually today or the continual degradation of referring to females as Bs—don’t agree at all—but I understand.  It’s the continual lack of identity from the person using the disrespectful language and the unfortunate lack of self-awareness of the recipient. I didn’t know who I was then—that’s why it was “acceptable” to refer to “friends and myself” as Bs. Young people don’t know who they are now, that’s why it’s acceptable to refer to themselves using negative words too. Don’t be so hard on our youth; we were once them. The language has changed, but one is not better than the other, and when you can’t define yourself, whatever label someone else applies seems better than not having one at all.

~

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