Healing My Inner Vixen: the Limits of Misogyny, Fetishization and Commodification as a Black Woman

My Experience

As a black woman, I often weigh out what I "bring to the table." I question my worth on a daily basis. I open my eyes and I'm instantly drug out of the priceless security of my dreams (where I'm worth everything and then some).

These days,

I warily decline to answer to any mother, father, significant other, former teacher, sibling, friend (current or former), bill collector, instigator, stranger, fan, subscriber, ex...basically any and everyone that has decided I could or should be doing more. That their input was more important than my choices.

Rarely, are black women allowed to be the sole conductors or captains of their ships.

We are used to community. We are used to sharing the load. We are used to baring the load.

What is life like when we selfishly choose our own existences? What is the world when we [black women] bravely and boldly decide to command life and everything around us through the enforcement of our boundaries?

Perfection.

I have seen perfection in myself in many instances, but I have also seen imperfection countless more times than I have decided to be satisfied with my circumstances. I have been called "ungrateful."

Trigger.

For a black girl like me, simple words like "ungrateful" trigger childhood altercations. Verbal battles. Emotional wars. Turmoil and resentment boiling within myself for never being able to be grateful and for people always telling me to settle. A young "Trejhaun" would not enforce her name, but I can do that for her. I will correct and never settle for "Trejhaun" again. I will not settle for labels, conditions, circumstances, and realities that do not fit my soul's perception of paradise.

As a black girl, you are told: "Heaven is in the sky. You are on Earth. Be down to Earth."

As a black woman, I choose to reply for my inner child that couldn't find the words because she had never seen the model: "Heaven is wherever I am."

I meditated. I consulted with God. I tuned into Source. I aligned with Spirit. I opened my eyes to the universe and It reflected myself back to me.

I asked God for death on countless occasions. I begged God for relief before I understood ideas like reincarnation. I pleaded with God to be reunited with him in the sky before I ever came across women who looked and appeared like me. I asked for death because I never considered that God would commit to helping me figure out why I deserved to be "ungrateful."

Choice.

Humans can say they believe in God but ultimately God believes in choice.

"My soul yearns for more because I deserve it."

This is an affirmation I recently was blessed to receive. I paid for it. I share it with everyone who is reading for free because it truly set me free. You never know you're trapped until you taste liberation and there are so many levels and trappings in this Earth. I feel grateful to be really free for once.

But it hurts.

I kept asking God for freedom and I've been to incredible places. I've got some amazing memories. I have some crazy stories. Too many I can't remember. And I think I'm grateful.

Our shadows are dark places. But they can be liberating as hell.

Immersing yourself in darkness and plunging out of it with a story to inspire and uplift and connect another day is a blessing.

If you are feeling pain, rejoice in your divine connection to your body. Listen to your body. Heal it. Treat it better. If your body is crying out in pain...what is it really saying? What is your body trying to communicate to you and why won't you listen until it strikes in a way you cannot ignore it any longer? You deserve to feel good again. You deserve to feel good all the time, but you also have to listen all the time.

If you are feeling alone, connect to yourself. Pour into yourself. What do you need? What would help? Who do you know that could be understanding enough to help you in this time that you need assistance? A lot of the times, people say to surround yourself with people you love. But as some one who has dealt with depression, I have actively felt the heaviness of sharing space with people you love. A lot of the times, it does not help...without an understanding.

That feelings are meant to be felt. And sometimes people just need to cry. Or need to express. Or vent. Or complain. Or a hug. Comfort and affirmation. Without judgement, pity, or counsel. Just presence. And understanding.

In my journey, I've been really exploring myself in the low moments. I've been asking the necessary questions. I've been over-reflecting and over-analyzing and then I'll switch it up and try to do nothing at all and that still bothers me. Why? Because I care too much. And that's okay too. I've been allowing myself the space to not "cut my care off" just because I don't receive the reaction I'm expecting or "deserving."

On Boundaries.

bound·a·ry /ˈbound(ə)rē/

noun plural noun: boundaries

1. a line that marks the limits of an area; a dividing line.

2. a limit of a subject or sphere of activity.

As a young black woman, I've been growing...fast. Mentally, physically, spiritually and I've learned it's "impossible" to expect everyone to align, adjust or adapt as quickly as you are always expected to, BUT God blessed us with BOUNDARIES.

Bad bitches need boundaries.

Your energy is amazing. Your vibe is sensational. Your music taste--impeccable. Your lipgloss--popping. Everybody loves you, hates you, or ignores you. The resting bitch face truly doesn't hit the same. But black women--society's self-imposed vixens--

vix·en /ˈviksən/

INFORMAL

a spirited or fierce woman, especially one seen as sexually attractive.

--need boundaries and a PLAN. A well thought out one. Perfectly curated by YOU. Because literally no one knows you or your shadows better. And all triggers must be accounted for.

1. Reclaiming my time looks like redirecting conversations or even ending them altogether.

2. Reclaiming my time looks like choosing my alone time and personal space.

3. Reclaiming my time looks like speaking up for myself and letting someone know when they've disrespected me or went too far in a conversation.

4. Reclaiming my time looks like cutting access and energy to people who cannot respect my existence, choices, boundaries, or personhood unless they are benefiting from it.

5. Reclaiming my time is a reclamation of time Itself and Self.

As a performing artist, I create my schedules. I accept my clients. I do not have to work with any and everyone. I set my boundaries.

As a woman, I create my village. I decide what spaces I enter. I do not decide or evade spaces out of fear. I make decisions out of consideration and what is best for me in that moment. I am confident in my decisions and I trust my intuition even if I am alone in it.

As a black woman, I refuse to acknowledge the proverbial "table," because often not...the face card speaks for itself. And when that doesn't, Spirit. And when that doesn't, energy and matter. And when all else fails, time. Time rules all. I'll just keep choosing me until time proves all.

Black women, if someone in your life has yet to realize your existence is the very reason the Sun rises and sets each day (just so we can bask in it and be reminded that Heaven truly is wherever we are), refigure your reality.

Remember you are no man's prize.

Your mind is your greatest commodity.

Intellect and Beauty rest in the eye of the beholder.

And perfection begins with you selflessly loving yourself and enforcing your boundaries.

That is the most perfect way to protect yourself in this pandemic we call misogyny.

It's cloudy with a chance of meatballs.

-Tré'Jhaun Andrece Dueberry

This blog post is intended for the healing and viewing of Black girls and women. All thoughts are my own.