Do we not look alike?
Met a woman on the streets today. A black woman. Her name, (not real)is Jessica) As I was coming out of Waterloo station this morning I saw what I thought was a black girl on the streets. Turns out she’s probably about my age, but was badly beaten, been raped on the streets which is unfortunately common experience for women on the street. I had a bit of a panic because I was initially sure I had no money. But I stopped across the road from her to check. I did have some money. So I went back across the road to go see her, she had gone to get fresh newspaper to sit on. When she sat down. I approached her, “honey what’s happened?” We had a conversation with me crouched but we decided to hug, which involves standing up. Which I preferred. One it put her back in position of being a regular adult having a regular conversation. It removed the stigma of her being on the street (it’s a temporary situation, she lives in a hostel, is clean and tidy but didn’t want to “burden” her family before her money comes in in 6 days) we became peers. She kept thanking me for stopping. She asked me why I stopped. I said to her, “ Do we not look alike?” She could be me, I could be her,” I was so saddened to see what poor mental health and a few bad situations can lead to. Rape, assault, feeling like you are a burden on your family. All awful. But at the end of the day, if I didn’t stop, I doubt anyone would. No one ever has empathy with black women, we so often lean into the “strong black woman” troupe, that we never speak the unspoken rule, which is if it goes wrong for us, it goes catastrophically wrong. No one helps you because they assume we’re conniving and superhuman. Conniving is a particularly strong word. We are considered manipulative, with high pain thresholds. So we’re incapable of vulnerability. We’re considered to always have it together that there is no plan if we don’t. The reason I can be really controlling at work is because if it goes wrong, even if it’s not my fault I am held accountable and made to feel responsible. So if I will be blamed, I sure as hell better take control. Anyway. We hugged. I spent time with her, I gave her all the money I had. In hindsight I should have bought her breakfast so she could save the money I gave her for dinner. I actually had left tonnes of time in contingency and therefore could have spent more time with her. She’s 7 stone at last weigh in. Essentially that’s why I thought she was a girl, she’s so underweight. I didn’t leave because I was in a rush, I left because I felt I had brought her back to “human” mode. Capable of self reflection, empathy (told her about my dad) and looking at something other than her current situation. I wished her all the best. I have prayed for her, and she did likewise. We left as equals, hugged and I hope our days are better for the interaction.
She’s more than her current situation. It’s just a snapshot, a season. She will get back on her feet.
Because I put her there and that’s how I left her.
Standing
Grace and Courage
Annetta Mother-Smith