My Blood Goes Green

I posted on my WhatsApp status: “Why do black women hate other black women”? The responses from this close group of people who constantly watch my status updates around the clock, were interesting. This then probed my mind; firstly most of the responses came from men. So I sat down to pen down what I thought about these issues, which for me are both spiritual and mental.

I’ve always had a theory about this very topic. I believe that for the longest of time, deep down within us is the need for the little girl (you and me) to prove a point, either right or wrong, to their mom, aunt and/or grandmother regarding all the things they said were not right or good about the little girl (you and me). For the most part, most black mothers were single mothers; for the most part they were assisted by their mothers to raise their children. Essentially because of how you came into the world and how rough it was, we tend to want to make life easier for the families who had to carry the burden of having the “unwanted you” in their homes. This rejection was further advanced when the very people who socialised you and made you who you are would call you out on character traits you had that were out of your control i.e.: you are just like your father, lazy and entitled, who do you think you are?

So then a child lives in the casted shadow of a man (human being who happens to be her absent father) she doesn’t know. From there we build up walls and we start subconsciously hating our moms, aunts and even grandmothers. We are unaware of our actions and the fact that we have grown up with this resentment that has now spilled over to our adult lives and into “adulating”grown up years (your work place and space). Some have watched their family members look down on the drinking aunt labelling her as the black sheep of the family, thus learning from home how to Pull Her Down (PHD) because she doesn’t bring anything to the table. We will expand on the PHD syndrome a bit later.

Self hate is another trait that seemed to have come in, many blame the magazines. I blame the world for always pitting women against each other. And again it starts at home, it was nursed and massaged well into our psyche when we got to school. And we managed to exalt it better when we got to young adulthood. Being pitted against each other or black women against each other started way before there was Social Media. We all know it we just won’t admit it. We must make sure we are thinking positive great thoughts about ourselves when we are thinking about ourselves. Believe me, I’m still working on it.

I was astonished to find men largely being the ones to give me reasons as to why black women hated other black women. Some went as far as saying all women hate on other women. It’s a universal thing I’m going to assume. That being said, it doesn’t mean we should allow it.  I was fortunate enough to live in a home where the two women, who I looked at as my mothers where never at each other’s throats about how life was going to happen. And they had every chance to, because the one woman was my mother, she was a domestic worker at the time, and the other woman was her boss aka Madam in South African terms. Not once did I ever see my mom hang her bosses underwear or bras when I asked my mom’s boss why, she said because that would be degrading my mom’s dignity. Not once did I see a finger in my mom’s face. And most importantly not once did I ever encounter them belittling each other, not in person or otherwise. That is a memory that taught me how to respect other women in power or without the power. It also taught me how to be civil and how to be as a woman. It is the reason why I love my childhood. The PHD Syndrome didn’t reach me because it was something that was never welcome in my (in this case, my mother’s place of employment were we happened to live) home.

Mothers and daughters are the most beautiful relationships to watch if you ever get the chance to watch them. From baby photos to adulthood you see how intertwined and loving both souls are and can be and how no one wants the worst for the other. Sure, the teenage years could have been bumpy, or even maybe it started during the terrible twos. However there are some women who are blessed with mothers who have fought hard to keep the bond alive and well. Then there are those who have had cruel unsavoury memories with their mothers. Making it very hard for them to socialise with women, like I said before it was a childhood thing. Trust was broken and the relationship took a knock. Or the mother was absent and so the respect never existed, either way these are all pain points I never wish on anyone. I always want to look at those who had a terrible relationship with their mothers as redeemers of love. They can become mothers, if they wish, and really just bless another soul by being an exemplary mother.

I want to ask myself and many other women, ‘where to from here’? I mean we are clearly not fixing the problem. We have clearly established that Black hates Black and that no amount of round table discussions, panels or politicians can enable us any further. That is why my burning question still remains, where to from here? Maybe you might know and are not afraid to leave us a comment. Maybe you want to DM us on our Social Media platforms with any suggestions on how to really deal with this. My best advice is do good, because doing good is contagious.