I apologize. I thought I could change the world. I thought I could leave you a better place.
My first memory was when I was three. My mother, father and I lived in an apartment in Atlanta, Georgia. I was sitting in a field of dandelions. In my little fluffy blue dress. My mother picking flowers by my side. The world was a calm place that moment in my existence. I loved my mother so much. She was a kind soul. Product of an abusive and poverty-stricken house. But she kept me. Close to her always. I was her little girl. She approached me and sat down. Reached for my hand. Hers was elegant and slim. She made a little ring out of a yellow flower and slipped it on my finger.
My mother is a stranger now. Her heart is cold. She is judgemental and emotional. She doesn’t listen to a word I say. Or try to understand me. She calls me selfish. She calls me many names. She has no idea how I hurt, how I burn inside. I’ve tried to tell her. But she wants to pretend. Pretend that she is the victim. And that my sister and I are conspiring against her.
The truth is, Mother, I am tired. I cannot move on. I cannot love. Have you ever had an ulcer? It is so painful at first. You pray to get rid of it. Then the pain becomes dull. And you begin to forget that it’s there. But it still is and you can’t be a normal person again.
This dullness spills onto my life. As a woman, I cannot move forward. I sleep around, I’m a slut. I stay faithful to myself, I am a prude. If I am with you, it’s because I like you. I don’t play games. But you do. And forget about the career. They say in this company, everyone is open-minded. Women are welcome and celebrated. But the test begins. They all fail. The Boys Club. The Secret Society of Menfolk. They smile and pat each other on the back. The party I went to last week. I gave my friend and hug and he barely acknowledged me before turning to his male colleague and began discussing a topic I am passionate about. The door shuts. I step away.
I apologize. I apologize my women. My Sophias who sacrifice. My sisters looking for scraps of love. I don’t have any answers. Except, I love you. And I will always love you.
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