sos for teenage black girls
Perhaps a Call to Action
Let me preface by saying I get it, I was once an unsure and misunderstood teenage black girl. So perhaps I am writing this with the idea of saving a past version of myself. I'm not sure but I will begin my point for the sake of beginning. Be patient as you read as I am dealing with a ball of emotions at the moment.
Yesterday morning my mom called me at 7am, she's not a morning human so naturally I was alarmed. She said that my grandma had woken her up to bad news. Her tone was that of hesitation and carefulness with each word. I asked what's the bad news, as nervousness begin to creep into the pit of my stomach. She then tells me that my 18 y/o cousin (let's call her NM) had been in a car accident the night before and it was fatal.
Ever since I was a little girl this weird thing would happen where I'd randomly have thoughts of a specific individual I know and then boom something comes up about them. Anyway, a few days ago I asked my grandma how NM is doing, and she just dully said NM was in jail. Now this is an 18 year old girl we are talking about. In Jail and no one is alarmed. NM's dad and I grew up almost as brother and sister, although he was my first cousin. We spent many days fighting, laughing, arguing, and plotting. Her dad is a few years older than me, he started getting in trouble with the law as soon as he was 14-ish. So you see where I am going with this huh? Generational for $500 Alex!!!
The very first time I saw NM it was like seeing a smaller version of myself walking around. I couldn't believe how much we favored, our skin was the exact same mustard-yellow-lite-skin-black-person tone. She was so cute and man was she sassy!! Either way NM and I did not form a relationship of any kind because as life would have it I was still fighting mental demons of my own and didn't know what it was to connect and uplift another. Fast forward many years later, about 2 years ago. This same grandma is telling me that this little girl who I hadn't seen in years was hell on wheels to put it plainly. What I noticed was there was no compassion in her voice when telling these tales of the hoodlum "great grand daughter of mine."
First problem is the lack of compassion almost gives me blame vibes. Like this girl who knows nothing of the world is this way simply because she woke up one morning and chose to be a trouble-maker. I hated to hear it, all of it. At this point she was in a group home because somehow she could not stay out of trouble in her own home.
I went home that night and thought about NM for weeks and weeks,. What could I do to help? Do I have room or space mentally to help? How do we save her from herself? What are the right magic words that will sway her to be different? Then, I felt an intense sadness, like as I am writing this now it's building again. The sadness came from knowing that it was too late for me to throw out a float to help her stop drowning. Then followed an intense anger. The anger came from knowing she had been failed, like I had been failed.
We are failing black girls. We are failing black girls. We are failing black girls. Said it three times just in case you thought you read it wrong. You didn't...
Teenage black girls with their beautiful skin, hair-do's and dance moves. These babies are in mental anguish, it's clear in how they treat themselves and others. The need to prove to a world that has no ears to listen, that they are THE SHIT. These babies are looking for love everywhere but inside themselves, because nobody showed them how to love themselves, nobody showed them pure unconditional love, nobody told them it was ok to cry, nobody told them its ok to not know it all, nobody hugged them and held them when they felt most vulnerable, nobody believed them when they shared their deepest secrets,
