If I were to describe Black women, I’d describe us as the “errant” child/ teenager of that dysfunctional family who are always trying to put on all the airs and graces to show the world that they’re alright. However, we aren’t just any child in this dysfunction. We are the child that is deemed the problem-child. The one made to feel like the problematic Grimmesque step-child who represents the bad branch of the systemic tree. The branch you want to cut off but can’t because your very survival of keeping up the pretence relies on their very existence. We are deemed unimportant and practically invisible until we’re needed for the family photoshoot. We’re only ever brought out for the family photoshoit. So what is a girl to do in between shoots?

The devil makes work for idle hands or errant wild child; and in between shoots, we alleviate our existence in the relegation zone by becoming the mothers of invention. And boy, do we create! Songs. Quilts. Fashion. Hair. Food. Vernacular. We are the Culture. Yet we are only noticed when Others imitate us. Then and only then will “The Female Head of the Family” reproduce what we’ve created but like the wicked step-mother that she is, she claims whatever we’ve invented as hers. Think Boxer braids aka cornrows/ canerows. Think satin bonnets selling at $98 when we’ve survived on ones that cost $4 or less. Hell, think BBLs, tans, lip collagen and botox to imitate our non-aging aesthetics. Think twerking. Things that when we do it, it’s ghastly but when Others do it, is met with rapturous applause. Once upon a time, we probably would’ve seen it but quietly called it out.

However, it’s a new dawn, a new day and the callout is getting much stronger. The number of apologies after an overstep is par for the course… and still, we raise our voices. You definitely hear our voices in times of crisis – when our men and children are killed at the hands of the police, when housing or social conditions are poor, or if we need to change a government. However, one thing about the errant child is that she will read everybody for filth when pushed too far – another part of the culture. Some of us had been convinced that that a bluster would make us look Angry, so have attempted to make a bluster more of a cool breeze – but a read is a read and after thinking we could take the high road, we, the errant children have always been unafraid to get down and dirty with the rest of them.

When they go low, we go high is a con that aims to appease. That doesn’t mean you can’t be strategic because it may work in some cases but we, the Errant Ones carry on regardless. We push boundaries. We continue to create. We continue to callout. We are problematic because our very presence causes consternation amongst the people who want to deny us our seat at the table but still get pissed when we creates tables and platforms of our own. Our biggest problem used to be that we’d invite everybody to our table with a faint hope that the invites would be reciprocated. We were too caring. Too accommodating. Now we’re more selective with who we break our bread with because we can’t win for losing.

We’re never enough for some people and far too much for others. We are constantly and consistently told what we should and shouldn’t be. And frig it if we know our worth because who are we to set our own standards when everybody in the tree wants to set it for us? Ironically, no matter the standard we set – whether it’s being strong, independent and black or if it’s encased in a financial value, it will always be too much. I am a woman of a certain age and I have seen the continuous ebb and flow of the narratives that aim to consistently and literally keep us out on a limb.

It never ceases to amaze me the depths of which people want to police, humble or black women. But our biggest problem is that we refuse to stay still. We keep forgetting to know our place. The problem with black women is that we are the most underrated, despised, unprotected yet culturally forward enough to attract our haters, united, organised collective on the planet. And if you can’t hear it from us, maybe a man telling you the same thing will help.

So whether you balk at our “vulgarity” or “masculinity” because we hold down jobs, keep homes and still set trends; or if you eschew our ability to keep it a buck – sometimes with humour; or you continuously resist the urge to view and celebrate us above, subservience, your preferred aesthetic or whatever other lens you view us through, then know this… If any part of our survival is truly irritating, maybe the problem with black women is… you.

Thank you for reading… Tricia ❤️🖤💚