When I wrote the title of this post in the morning, I was going to respond to the hate being spewed by a ‘Tracy Zille’ on Twitter. If you haven’t seen the thread, it’s supposed to read like a European woman berating Africans for not wanting the Covid-19 vaccine. I am convinced it’s not a European, though, because the details are too exact, and the hate is too loud.
Although I was going to respond to it, I won’t. I think if you respond to hate with hate, you only make it worse. So I’ll get to the point of today’s post: Self-pride.
I was raised to believe that everyone is equal, has equal rights, and should be treated with respect, regardless of their social status, tribe, or appearance. I have never once feared or revered a person because they drove a big car or spoke in an accent. (which some Africans do, for some reason. It’s just annoying). In fact, I kinda despise people who want to be treated special because of one reason or the other.
I have been my proudest on my worst day. Even when I was going through a crappy time, and I have had some crappy days, I have woken up, put on my make up, and walked with my head held high. It has never felt like pretense to me, and it never will because I have never considered myself a lesser being, no matter the situation.
My self-pride can sometimes border on the rude. If you try to tell me that I can’t do something, and I get that a lot, or that I can’t be in someplace because my parents don’t own a house in some rich neighborhood, you’ve got yourself a war.
Don’t get me wrong; I respect people. But only as much as they respect me. I once walked out of a restaurant because my date and his friends ganged up on the waiter for spilling a drink. As the waiter stood there, shaking like a leaf and saying too many sorry’s to count, I saw the scene for what it was. A privileged bastard who thought he owned the world because he could afford to have a drink on a Monday morning. (Yes, I was skipping class.)
I remember saying to him, “…that could be me. Worse still, that could be your son or your brother in some years in another restaurant being treated like crap because someone like you grew up thinking that when they die they’ll turn into a butterfly. Dust to bones, my friend. Just like everyone else.”
Before this turns into a rant, and it might, let me encourage you to be proud of who you are. Of your struggles, your roots, the color of your skin, your kinky hair, your two-room house, your lisp, your mother, learned or not, and your culture. Anything you think is an inadequacy. Because it is what makes you you. It is why you stand out from the crowd and why you are not ‘others.’
And never, for the sake of all that’s good, never let anyone look down on you. For any reason. Like Helen Keller would say,
Never bend your head. Hold it high. Look the world straight in the eye.
Beautiful day people!