Black Girl In Love (with Herself) by Trey Anthony

Author:Trey Anthony [Trey Anthony]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hay House
Published: 2020-10-24T00:00:00+00:00

SIS, JUST BECAUSE YOUR MOMMA HAS PLASTIC ON HER FURNITURE DOESN’T MEAN YOU HAVE TO LIVE THAT!

Girl, I can bet you probably have a mother and grandmother who raised you to save all your good stuff. Good stuff could mean your socks, bedsheets, towels—even your damn panties! Come on, I know I ain’t the only one with good panties saved away in my top drawer! But my grandmother took saving good things to a different level. My grandmother saved a whole damn room! Yes, we had an entire dining room that no one was allowed to go in. In that room, the couch and the chairs were covered with plastic that stuck to your legs and plush red velvet cushions were lined up in perfect order. My grandmother’s favorite white porcelain figurines lined the shelves. And finally, a large color TV was the featured act in the room. It seemed to taunt us from its prominent place, begging us to break the rules and turn it on, but none of us would dare unless we wanted to get our ass whooped into the following week. My grandmother told us that she was saving the room for when “company” came over. So no one was allowed in that room unless we were going in there on Saturday afternoon with some furniture polish and a cloth to dust it. This became my job while my grandmother would give me the evil eye to ensure I put all her precious figurines back in their correct order. I would often fantasize about the day that company would come over and we could finally use the room and turn on the big TV, but our long-anticipated company never came.

I swore that when I grew up I would never have rooms in my home that no one was allowed to go in, but we are all creatures of our environment. Unlike Gran, I didn’t save an entire damn room, but I did save good sheets, good pens, good socks, good running shoes to wear only if I had a show, and of course, I used my favorite perfume only on special occasions. I was so damn stingy to myself, that I didn’t realize I was giving myself and the universe the underlying message that I was not worthy of good and nice things at all times. And I didn’t trust those good things would last forever.

When my grandmother died and we went to pack up her home, I opened her favorite handcrafted wooden chest, and inside it was brand-new sheets, towels, hand towels, and pillowcases, most of them with the tags still on! I broke down crying because I thought she had worked so hard to buy these things, and she would not allow herself to enjoy them. She chose to use tattered, worn-out towels and sheets. She denied herself any form of goodness. She chose to save her best for a day that never came. My grandmother was a woman who chose to deny herself joy.

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