What now?

Snooke snooke. What happens now? You are so resolute. So stubborn. So damn tired. So Snookie, what happens now? We’ ve explored what happens when giants die, we know a change has occurred but what does it mean? What now? Is this my happy ever after? Why is it not happy? Why is it that after the princess fought the battle, the war and then comes out the other side? My darling beloved. We need to talk about your heart. You were so upset, so beaten, so downtrodden to stand up for yourself. It’s actually insane to see how quickly you have grown. The same person who was terrified, the same person who waited a month the discern her feelings. The next day after you had topped your all time record for bravery… you break your record again. Without hesitation. People now adhere to your standards or not. But darling, where was all this bravery when you needed it? The thing that I want to talk about is actually the “calm after the storm” the level of stress I took to stand up for myself the first time (it was disproportionate , I argued with everyone) I decided instantaneously that I was still not satisfied. It bothers me not one bit if they slap me down…, they can then explain to everyone why they don’t take bullying seriously. I’m so brave. I’m it. I’m that girl. That girl I was at 10… indestructible. The weird peace I have experienced is that which I want to pay attention to. This isn’t “ freedom fighting” this is clinical. Indifferent. Pursuit of due process. It’s the process that concerns me. Not the outcome. The outcome will be a “slap on the wrist” most likely. But it doesn’t matter. I am brave. The bravest I have ever been and then braver still. I am indescribably proud of myself. I am finally taking up space. Not with trepidation. But with resolution. No emotions. No hatred. No anything. Just truth. True to myself. Bone deep authenticity. I have never been a “softly softly”kind of person. I have only not taken up space because I didn’t believe I would get what I wanted, so I didn’t ask. Therefore I can’t be rejected. Here, I don’t care what they do. They will either impress me or disappoint me. One of the two. But the lion does not care about the opinions of sheep. This lioness is…. Done. Done being a “pick me” done trying to prove myself to people who will never see my worth. The only way I succeed to them is through surpassing them, but they’re dead to me. The world moves on. I am an accountant and so I care about process. Therefore no one will get away with circumventing due process and trying to rob me of my basic rights as a human. I will not sell myself short. Have my birthright sold down the river. Beloved. I stand up for myself now. I have myself and God. No one else. Die on your feet rather than live on your knees. Nothing stirs in my chest. Nothing beats in my chest. It’s literally all about process. You will prove to me and everyone that you are a man or not. And if you are a coward then state it publicly and with your chest. I have no plans to argue with you. I am now in a period of enjoyment. I will enjoy my victory. The fact that I spoke has filled me with joy. Whether it is enough or not is up to my heart. But I feel nothing on this matter. I have asked for the harshest thing possible because I am harsh. I have always been “spare the rod, spoil the child” kind of person. It is that truth of “what you tolerate you pay for” I have always held true to and I am not going to tolerate you. As a woman. As a black woman I am constantly told to be “soft” and “gentle” and not seek restitution when men violate me. Restitution is whatever I say it is as long as the focus is healing and not vindictive. If it’s punitive, then it’s revenge. If it’s proportionate to the crime and the culture then it is restitution. Punishment and consequences are two different things. Punishment isn’t up to me. Consequences are a logical outflow from actions and therefore are also, nothing to do with me. Even if I did set them in motion.

There’s nothing wrong with that.

So what now? Go forth and live a beautiful life.

Grace and Courage

Annetta Mother Smith