Category Archives: Society

Damn, I’m a Pick-Me Ass Bitch

A “Pick Me Ass Bitch,” by definition is the “woman” who tries too hard to be liked (Men can be pick-mes, but this ain’t for them right now). She will compromise her independence, her self-esteem, and her self-respect for the opportunity to be chosen. Some examples of Pick-Mes are Phylicia Rashad, in the case of defending Bill Cosby’s rapist ass, and Erykah Badu arguing that Teenage girls need to ‘cover up’ so as not to distract male teachers. “Pick Mes” are women who are conditioned to internalize misogyny and changes their behavior to fit the narratives of a sexist society. Growing up in the rural South, I was surrounded by religious propaganda that conditioned me to internalize self-hate. Statements like “Don’t be easy” and “Boys don’t want a woman who has been used” were the main motivation for me wanting to be a virgin till marriage. I felt as though that’s how I would gain a man who respected me, by being “worthy” of “respect.”

Then I was raped… I found that living in a world where I internalized misogyny became difficult for me; how was I supposed to heal when in the back of my head, I felt as though my value had decreased. On one hand, I believed it wasn’t my fault, I was completely covered up, I wasn’t a “whore.” But in the back of my head I remembered the details, I had “no business being intoxicated,” why was I even at a boy’s home? I faced a rude awakening that existing as a woman, as my own woman, meant existing outside of other people’s expectations of me.

Now as a grown ass woman living in New York, surrounded by people who are “sex-positive,” I feel as though I am still unpacking my pick-me ways. Yes, my environment has changed, the narrative has changed, but I still found myself performing the same song & dance. For most of my life, I’ve had issues with my self-esteem, and finding “self-validation.” For as long as I could remember I would talk to my friends about every single thought, feeling, emotion, and response. I’d look at them as my stamp of approval, the people to prove I wasn’t crazy. When I dated men, I tried so hard to not fit into the “crazy” or “jaded” archetype.

In my last relationship, I think I went in with the subconscious thought that it was my job to compromise who I was. I had committed to him, so I had to be comfortable with the fact that he wasn’t comfortable with me showing too much flesh. I had made a commitment to him, so I get why he wouldn’t want me to be friends with males I’ve had sex with. He was my man, so I had to be understanding of why he was uncomfortable with my sex worker past. I felt like I owed him countless explanations, I owed him undeserved vulnerability, and that I owed it to him to shrink myself. But damn Y’all, I gave that man an inch and he took a WHOLE mile. When I cut my hair, he told me I looked like a man and expressed an issue with the fact that I didn’t “consult” him first. When I had sex with someone else after he broke up with me, he expressed he didn’t understand how I could be so ‘easy’ if I had been raped. The micromanagement only increased over time, and I was punished for standing up for myself or confiding in my friends and family.

Now, I’m at a very similar place as I was when I was 18, trying to figure out how to heal. After I left him I internalize his messages: “Good luck finding someone that will deal with you.” He made me feel like because of who I am and who I was that I had something to be ashamed of. The next guy I dated I found myself trying to do everything to appease him. He was surprised when I wore a crop top, so I changed it (even though he said it was fine). I kept my past hidden from him, “He doesn’t need to know the ‘dirty’ parts of you that made you who you are.” Eventually, when it came time to commit, I truly don’t think I was ready. But so many of my friends seemed happy with him, and I figured that I was stupid for dating so many “bad guys” that why shouldn’t I give a “nice guy” a chance? Then very shortly after he asked me for a relationship, he ghosted me. Immediately I blamed myself. I figured it was because of the times I was too annoying, too affectionate, too attentive, too me.

I felt destroyed, I felt like my ex was right. I wasn’t able to keep him, and I wasn’t able to keep the next guy. I didn’t begin to snap out of my funk until I realized that it’s really hard to mess up the “right thing.” That no guy who REALLY likes you sits at home and thinks: “Damn, shawty type bad and I deadass like her, but, she was too affectionate, so I ghosted.” Maybe men don’t prefer the affectionate type, but a person who is invested in and values you won’t just ghost you. Once I accepted that I realized that being ghosted hurt not because I really liked him, but because just like he was probably using me to validate himself, I was doing the same. I allowed myself to commit when I wasn’t ready and almost agreed to a situation I felt tricked into (that’s another story) because I was seeking validation that I could keep a man. I wanted to feel worthy, and I wanted to believe that I was able to pick a “good guy.”

Y’all, just like 18-year-old Monisha had to do, 23-year old Monisha is working to undo her pick-me programming. Very shortly after I was raped, a man told me that if I had a dominant man in my life that I probably wouldn’t have been in that situation. I don’t think I’ve talked about how I internalized that things that happened to me were my fault. I don’t think I’ve owned up to the fact that in some cases I date men who are more “traditional” because I lack the self-esteem to combat my internal feelings of incompetence. I think I still have a lot of “pick-me” in me because I’m scared Y’all. I’m scared of being alone, I’m scared that I won’t have to protect myself, I’m scared that I’ll always have to be a “Strong Black Woman.”
When I have daughters, I hope I can raise them to have more faith in themselves than I did. Cause nothing for nothing, I don’t want to raise daughters, I need to raise women. I need to raise girls who don’t internalize that they are incapable of being their own person, I need to raise myself to internalize that I am cable of being my own person. It’s a process, I am healing, I am transforming.

For Black Women who “Look Like Men.”

Us Black girls don’t tend to have hair that falls down our back, our hair grows upward towards Heaven.

I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with my cotton-candy curls, loving them is a battle I’ve had to fight internally and externally. “You look like a boy” is a statement my ears are far too familiar with, and my heart feels too tired to argue. I didn’t have the words to explain to people at 7-years-old that little boys and little girls don’t look all that different, and hair isn’t a means to tell someone’s sex or much less their gender. “You look like a man” is what I’ve heard too many past lovers tell me whenever I took my extensions out, as if it wasn’t enough for them to not love me, now they had to try take away my ability for me to love me. I’ve always had difficulties accepting how femininity was both forced on and taken away from Black women, completely depending on the situation.

I’ve had difficulties grappling with how our bodies are seen as museum exhibits for oogling, ogling, and appropriation. From an early age Black Girls are fetishized for our butts; “twerk for me.” For our lips; “damn girl you have some DSLs” Yet degraded for our hair; “She’d be cuter if he sh*t wasn’t nappy.”  From the moment we begin to exist our bodies are controversial war-zones, and like land, we are damaged from the cross-fire. Our basic humanity gets negated from all directions, Black men, Non-Black men, Non-Black women, and yes even ourselves. We are taught from an early age to shrink ourselves like hair being met with water (this metaphor ain’t for White girls); “Don’t walk around with an attitude.” Our tears are perceived as ugly, our bodies treated as unfeminine. As a child, I never had the words to express what was happening against me, but damn, I was always left wondering “Ain’t I a woman?”

I never understood Sojourner Truth’s speech in its entirety until much later in my life (if you haven’t read it, please read it), what resonates so deeply is that even to this day Black female bodies are still subjected to the mockery and critique of others. When someone wants to embrace our femininity, we are expected to be “lady-like”. When someone wants to de-feminize us, it’ll happen within the blink of an eye. Originally this piece was going to be about hair, but it’s so much more than the way our hair grows out our head. It’s the fact that our dark skin is seen as a threat, so people treat us very similarly to how they’d threat Black men in this society. It’s the fact that our voices tend to be deeper, so we are expected to make the pitch higher so as to not come off as rude when we speak. It’s the fact that we have always been treated differently than other women, as if we are expected to be Super-Woman and depend primarily on ourselves. The worst part is, I think the internalization of these messages are unavoidable.

From afar, I appreciate how Non-Black feminists are growing out their body hair, spreading their legs when they sit, and paying for themselves (and maybe even the guy) on dates. But I can’t help but feel like we, Black women, our feminist movement has to look a little different. It has to look like not laying down our edges and cutting our hair short (if we want that). It has to look like wearing those booty shorts and that crop top if we want it, because it isn’t our fault that our bodies are hyper-sexualized. Our feminist movement has to look battling double standards of attire, because why can that White girl wear it, but I’m a “slut” if I do? Hell, I think our Black Feminist movement looks like Black women reclaiming their sexuality, however and whenever they want (That’s why Amber Rose is important to me). The world isn’t going to be kind to our feminist Black movement, I don’t even expect most of our mommas to understand it. But from one Black girl to another, we need a movement for Black Women who are told they “Look like men.”

For Black Girls who are too young to understand the battle ahead of them, 
don’t listen to the haters. Your hair is beautiful, long, short, curly, or kinky. Your skin is beautiful, regardless of if your Light and Bright or Midnight Black. Black girls, your bodies are yours, and you’re gonna have a lot of people who try to take that away from you. But whatever you do, try not to let your self worth as a Black girl be belittled by a society that doesn’t see the beauty in you. 
For Black Women,
we have to go out our way to make Black girls feel special. We have to compliment their hair, we have to compliment their skin. We have to tell them that they are beautiful, not because girls are supposed to be beautiful, but because beauty is something we Black women have grown up thinking we don’t have. We have to engage in conversations with Black girls about how they feel about themselves, and really listen to what they have to say. We have to protect them from a world that will make them feel like they aren’t worth protecting, we have to show them they are worth protecting. Because anti-Blackness comes in many forms, and society not seeing us, Black women and girls as what we are, that’s declining refusing for the inclusion of our being. 

This Is Why I HATE The ‘Body Positive’ Movement

We live in a day and age where “body positive” is more of a buzzword, and less of authentic belief. Yes, we see an increase of “plus-size” models, the word “curvy” being celebrated, and body acceptance being preached to the masses. But let’s be honest:

It’s a bunch of bullshit.

Not that we shouldn’t look at ourselves and love who we see in the mirror, that isn’t the issue. The issue is that while we are preaching body positivity, we still only hire“pretty models.” For every pound of fat you have, it is expected that you add an extra pound of makeup. For each stretch mark that is added to your body, means an extra love handle you should subtract. Yes, I appreciate the notion that we should accept our bodies. I celebrate it, I tell my friends to internalize it. But even I, someone who’s considered fairly conventionally attractive, still have a difficult time actually believing the message I’m signing onto. I can’t believe the message when a company’s attempt at being edgy consistent of showing body hair on shaving commercials, yet they still use models with perfect skin. Not when companies try to be controversial by not editing a model’s pictures, while still using girls who were never really told by society that there was much need to edit.

Maybe I’m just being over analytical, but how is it revolutionary to defy societal expectations while only straying a little to the left? How are we really supposed to raise our self-esteem when we are checking our bodies to make sure we are still ok; “I gained a lot of weight but at least I have a conventionally attractive face.”

I want to internalize body positivity, I really do. But I don’t think body positivity should equate to telling people that they are perfect just the way they are, but then very obviously only celebrating people who are still considered beautiful by society’s standards. I want to see more than just Plain Janes with stretch marks. I need more than Instagram models with a scar or two. I need more than plus size models who are otherwise JUST AS PERFECT as “regular” models. I want to see girls who make me feel like if I have a day where I feel fat that I don’t have to put on more makeup to make up for my body. I want to see more guys with bodies bigger than dad bods, and faces that are considered average. I want representation from people who fall under the trans umbrella who aren’t always passing and drenched in rainbows and fashionable attire.

I want my body positive movement to be controversial because we’ve turned society on its head. I want my body positive movement to be hard to look at because we aren’t used to seeing anything like it before.

I want my body positive movement to be ugly.

I want my body positive movement to be raw, I need it to be authentic, and more than anything…

I need my body positive movement to be, real.