When he leaves your ass for a white woman

“I know this dude's ballin, and yeah that's nice
and they gon' keep callin' and tryin'
But you stay right, girl
But when you get on, he leave yo' ass for a white girl”
Lyrics of Kanye West

I love this song for the lyrics, and the beat but it also gives me chills every time I hear the words “he leaves yo’ ass for a white girl.” Because it’s so true, but aren’t they all?  The lyrics from songs, scenes from movies and shows are all ripped from the headlines of our own lives. A dear friend of my mother’s I grew up knowing her and her husband and three kids. I always thought they were the happiest couple, they struggled but they had that sparkle in their relationship that made you aspire to one day have a love just like theirs. It wasn’t until years later and I was an adult and a single mom that I find out that they were now divorced. She played her part as mother and wife. She worked nights and days as a nurse helping her husband complete college so that in return he could also go the distance, with helping his family succeed as a prominent African American family, just living the dream. Instead she worked hard as both mother and wife and when her husband finished college and obtained the career, making the money he left her ass for a white woman. This burned me up inside, it tore me into tiny pieces, tears stung my eyes and the hole already burning in my heart grew wider. It wasn’t me, not my life but it hurt just as much. The hope I had was all but a dream, was it also my reality to be the one he came to for hook ups, small talk and conversations just to one day make it, conquer the world and find him a white girl to have on his shoulder. There she goes that other half of me I call Jaded. The tattoo I will one day where on my back “Bitter Black Bitch” because as a 30 year old single mom of one, never have been in love, or relationship and to may never one day be married. I am bitter, and angry not with my own tales in life but other women. Women that look like me, my older generation of the African American queens that I have watched struggle to make it, to carry the same weight on their shoulders that their men carried and all for what to be betrayed by that same lover, and friend that they gave their heart and soul to. With each love in our lives we lose a part of ourselves for every day we die for that sacrifice. Is it really worth it? To love and one day lose that love? Would it have hurt as much to know that he left her for a black woman? That kind of betrayal hurts regardless of race, but for me it will hurt more because of the burden and curse of being a black woman living in this society. Black men are we not good enough? When did black women lose that power?   When did we lose the ability to keep our families together?  When did we lose the power to keep our black men feeling secure and confident within our love and strength?  For myself I know that I was raised by a beautiful black woman, a woman who stayed by my father’s side through sunshine and thunderstorms. She died when I was only 11 years of age. She never got to experience being showered with gifts, she died never knowing how it felt to not struggle, sometimes that makes me angry but it also has made me stronger. Yet I am still bitter because I carry her struggles along with all the African American queens who struggle day after day to support their families. I take pride in knowing I struggle each day to provide for my family. So when that day comes when I have made it to the top of the mountain I will shout down to the rest of the world and they will know my strength and power for I am the black woman, her strength, her courage, and her sacrifices.