“And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony”
I look at my sisters each and every day. Beautiful girls in designer clothes. Hair laid. Flawless skin. Makeup may be there. Perfect tens either way. Walking effortlessly in 4 inch heels to perfect jobs, with perfect lives, in the “oh so perfect” world we live. Their beauty is only surpassed by their intellect. Some women have legs for days. Well, these girls, they have the brains to accompany the legs. The intellectual stimulation provided will make a man’s head spin and his brain burst. Yeah, I said it. These chicks are bad…and know it.
But, behind the beautiful faces, bountiful brains, and plastered smiles that represent perfect lives lie stories…and secrets…and memories…that are never to be revealed. Hidden in the deepest, darkest compartments of our souls, the places we refuse to return to, are the incidents of rejection, heartbreak, and failure. The recollections of abuse, mistreatment, and manipulation. Memories of brokenness, disappointment, disgust…and the……….suicidal thoughts.
The moments when the pain was so much we just wanted to numb it. The times when the future was so dark we had no desire to face it. The occasions when the alcohol, drugs, Ambien, and Xanax weren’t enough. The nights when the meaningless sex that was suppose to “make me feel good” only made us feel worse. The instances when we were the colored girls who considered suicide…
While we run from the bad dreams that were once our realities, we fail to realize that our sisters need to hear us tell our horror stories. They’re desperate to know that they are not alone. They’re distraught in the shame of bad decisions. And they’re dying to realize that this too shall pass.
What we fail to realize is that we are one. Our stories are intertwined. Our hurt. Our horror. Our healing. It’s all connected. The beautiful faces, bountiful brains, and plastered smiles that represent our perfect lives are the lethal injections that are causing our sisters to die—emotionally…spiritually… physically…and all alone.
What we fail to realize is that our smiles are killing our sisters. They’re perpetrating an existence that fails to exist. A reality that is faker than Kim K’s marriage & Nicki Minaj’s booty…combined. A truth that is simply a lie.
And yes, it’s ok to dress the part. Everyone doesn’t need to see you naked. But there has to be a space we can all go and simply strip down. An area where we can get nude and not be judged. A place that doesn’t mind if we bare it all.
Our sisters need to see our scars to know that their open wounds will one day heal. They need to feel our hearts to know that they are still beating after being broken and torn. They need to see our smiles to know that theirs will soon be returning. We need to share our hurt, our horror, our healing because they are the balm of Gilead that our sisters need to become healthy and whole.
As sisters we have to stop failing each other. We have to stop ignoring each other’s hurt and brokenness. We have to look past the plastered smiles and see deep into each other’s eyes where the hurt and pain hides. We have to create a space where we are safe to be all that we are, so we are able to learn, heal, and help each other. Our existence depends on this. Because we are one. And while we may hurt, we should NEVER EVER have to even consider suicide.