The Invisible Black Woman

I’ve been thinking a lot today about motherhood, which is a bit on the nose given the day it is. But I’m especially reflecting on how absolutely fortunate and blessed I am to have a Black mother that is still here. I say that because of the sad fact that the maternal mortality rate for Black women is the highest of any other race in the United States. And the reasons run the gamut from biases to micro and macroaggressions—but I imagine the stress of having to think about juggling other things while you’re supposed to be focused on the most joyous occasion of your life, surely that adds to it. I also think about all the other Black mothers, many much too young, who are no longer here because they weren’t listened to or believed. And all of that has me in my feelings.

Oh, and before you go into the tired trope, “all mothers matter,” I refer you to the name of this blog and the PSA I wrote a few days back. And no, I won’t link it here for your convenience because if you know, you know. And if you’re slinging that tired mess, the answer is clearly that you don’t.

If you’re among the fortunate to have your mother—or Mumma, as we say back home—still gracing this earth, consider yourself blessed. And perhaps your Mumma is not by blood, but whomever that is for you, the one who kissed your booboos, loved you unconditionally, was your biggest defender, if they’re still here, give them their flowers while you still can. Tomorrow isn’t at all promised.

It took me getting to this ripe old age to realize just how blessed I am. And it’s funny how you don’t understand or see things the way they really were until you’re much older. I understand the sacrifices made by a woman who was doing the best she could, stuck in a toxic marriage with a raging alcoholic. I understand why she made the difficult decision to put on her oxygen mask and save herself first so she could do the same for us. Time and distance are a powerful teacher.

And, at the end of the day, if the only thing standing between you and your Mumma are petty misunderstandings and disagreements, I urge you to mend that bridge while you still can. You won’t ever look back with regret at the time spent, only the time lost.

Speaking for myself, I was a hardheaded child. Like, cinderblock hardheaded. And not in the way that makes you say I have no sense, but in the way that a headstrong-gonna-do-this-my-own-way-even-if-I-fall-flat-on-my-face child then woman is. I know for a fact, whether she’ll admit it or not, my Mumma spent many a time burning up the mainline to make sure I survived. It’s a wonder Jesus didn’t send her to voicemail after the umpteenth time.

So, as I wrap up this post and get ready for the phone call I’ll undoubtedly get minutes after I publish because of the avid bookworm (or is it blogworm, in this case?) and speed reader tendencies you have that I inherited, this one’s for you…

Dear Mumma,

I am grateful for the time I have with you.

I am grateful you get to go on this journey with me and we get to have our debriefs after my posts and kiki and pick apart what I shared.

I am grateful for the moments when you ask me to explain a term you haven’t heard before that you are sure I misspelled because that’s just not proper English. It tickles me to hear your realization when I break down what it means.

I am grateful to have you as one of my staunchest cheerleaders throughout this entire journey—the good, the bad, and the ugly.

I’m grateful you hold no punches when I’m doubting myself and my gift.

I’m grateful for the hardheadedness I know full well I got from you, because as much as it has led to some of my greatest mistakes, it’s also got me through some of my most difficult and darkest times.

I’m grateful you pushed me to continue my studies even when I didn’t quite feel like it. Not only has it opened doors, but it has instilled in me a love of learning, self-confidence and maturity.

Love Always,

Me

Until next time, I wish you nothing but sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns, which are no less fictitious than the magnificent, marvelous, mesmerizing mother you are.