Solange, A Seat At The Table
September 30, 2016
“Black kids have to figure it out, we don’t have rehabs to go to. You gotta rehab yourself.”
When I was 30 years old, Solange released A Seat At The Table. 2016 was a rough year for me, so when this album dropped, Solange became my solace. I listened to it every single day for three weeks straight. From there I listened to it once a week, before I cut it down to once in a while, or whenever I was having a really rough day. One thing that I noticed about myself and this album is that I listened to it from beginning to end. I needed to hear it in its order, so I would always take it off of shuffle. Two years later, I am still listening to this album from beginning to end, no shuffle, sometimes going back to certain songs before they’re over for an extra pick me up.
One day last week, I was having one of those really rough days. Single parenting was kicking my ass, with both kids pushing my buttons, in addition to the weight of all my responsibilities pulling me down. I was also in between hair appointments, so I was wearing a wig. If any of my readers work in corporate America, you may understand the frustration I was feeling in reference to my hair and the constant comments and questions about my Sza inspired style. “How long does that take?” Is that your real hair?” “Is it heavy?” One woman even touched my hair as she asked if it was a weave—it happened so fast that I didn’t have time to react.
That set me off.
The day was rough enough. I didn’t feel like discussing my hair when I had deadlines and projects to complete. Instead of cussing them out like I wanted to, my boyfriend, who is ever so amazing at picking up when something is off with me when we speak, be it text or phone, allowed me to vent my frustrations to him. Of all the things I vented, he didn’t understand the “hair thing.” That shut me down, and I didn’t say anything else about it. I thanked him for letting me vent and moved forward with the conversation. I didn’t tell him how that made me feel, but he’ll read this and see though.
Pardon me, y’all…
Love, I apologize for not telling you. I also apologize for calling you my boyfriend—I know you don’t like that term.
He’s my man, guys. My maaaaaaaaaan. #Martin
Feeling slighted and in need of my earphones in my ears so no one would talk to me at my desk, I went to Solange’s album and instantly felt better. I let it play from beginning to end, and, after Tina Taught Me, Don’t Touch My Hair plays, and I almost cry. YES! It’s my feelings that I wear! As Solange sings, “they don’t understand what it means to me, where we chose to go, where we’ve been to know…”
I’m getting mad.
“What you say to me, what you say to me…to me…to ME?!” I wanna call my guy and cuss his ass out. It IS a big deal, damnit! It’s my hair! Why is it such a big deal TO THEM! I been here three years! They seen my hair change a million times! What the F@&K!
“You got the right to be mad…but when you carry it alone you only find it getting in the way….you gotta let it go.”
What am I holding on to that I’m not aware of?
Wait a minute. Hold up. Don’t get it confused: my hair is MY hair, and it shouldn’t be a (constant) conversation. I have heard so many black women say that their hair is always a topic of conversation at work. It’s not just a hair thing *side eye.*
Neither are my issues.
It wasn’t just my hair that was bothering me. It was the whole damned morning, with me having to handle all of the day to day responsibilities at home alone; while I’m usually good at balancing those responsibilities and the emotions that come with them, on this particular day, I wasn’t feeling it. The first thing people ask when I do share my parenthood woes is, “do you get child support?” Child support does not provide the fundamental assistance a child needs in its entirety, as it only provides money. Child support doesn’t council, give advice, pick them up/drop them off from school, give hugs, kisses, help with homework, iron clothes, cook dinner, do laundry, or do anything else intangible that these kids may need.
There are a lot of issues that I am dealing with that are coming full circle, both as a parent and individual, and money isn’t going to solve them. Solange isn’t going to solve them. Me not talking about them is not going to resolve them. I need to see a therapist.
Real quick, y’all: I don’t know where black people got this idea that therapy is a bad thing, or that Jesus is the only one you can talk to when you’re going through troubles, but we really have to let that idea go. We NEED to deal with us. It is important to our mental health and the generations after us to discuss our issues, our trauma, our shit, whatever we’re dealing with. Their livelihood depends on our sanity. Think about that.
Therapy is not a bad thing. It’s not just for crazy people. It’s not “just for white people.” What literally makes me laugh is that we’ll call our mamas, our daddies, aunty so n so, uncle so n so, Kima, Keisha, Pam, Little Moe with the Gimpy Leg, and keep them on the phone for hours, but we won’t take our asses to therapy. What’s the difference? Money? Insurance will pay for therapy. Employers offer sessions through EAP (Employee assistance programs.) There are also licensed therapists that work hotlines FOR FREE.
For FREE.
We all deal with so much on a daily basis. The weight of the problem doesn’t matter, it’s how you handle it. Please also keep in mind that you are not a burden, your problems are not minuscule. Handle that shit. If you truly aren’t up to talking to a licensed therapist, please find a buddy to confide in, and decipher early on whether or not you need advice or just someone to listen. This is very important, because some people don’t know the difference. I’ve included a hotline number and website at the end of this blog for anyone that is interested in getting the ball rolling today. Think about it, at the very least. You deserve the peace of mind.
I’m gonna make my appointment and handle my shit.
Peace,
April Bee
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HOTLINES:
Free mental health hotline
Counseling (individual, couples and children)
Betterhelp.com will help you find a therapist in your area!