Lover Girl
Oh geez. What an eventful two weeks it has been. Should I become a nun now? Should I wash my hands with the thought of someone loving me for me? Or will the pressure of societal standards slowly seep into my sanctions? What if I fell under that pressure? I think Daija, as we know it, would cease to exist. I never want to let go of the part of me that loves love, but perhaps I’m slowly getting hijacked and forced to be conditioned and be okay with being talked to and seen as an object. I think society conditions men to take and for women to accept what’s taken from them and to expect to receive nothing in return—the patriarchy.
Last weekend, I had the worst date of my entire life, and I almost conditioned myself that this was something I could accept. Something I could take. I could teach this guy to be normal. I could teach this guy not to comment on my body because of what I went through in high school. I could teach him not to want me just because I was “young.” I could teach him that not all black people are the same, and that we are multi-faceted human beings, and that not all of us fall under the whims of every single stereotype the media projects on my community. I could teach him not to use weaponized incompetence to say hurtful things as a 32-year-old living, breathing, functioning human being in society. I could teach him that God giveth and He taketh away, so your money, your status, and the martialistic things you hold close to your heart mean nothing in the eyes of God. I could teach him that no matter how much you make, what car you drive, or what shoes you wear, what matters is how you treat people and how you love them. I could teach him how to love people properly.
Maybe in the end, I did feel intimidated. I mean, this guy really had the mindset—the kind you only see in movies or podcasts. The type of mindset that falls under the complicated A-typical CEO archetype you’d see in a drama series. It was scarily inspiring and yet superficial at the same time. Maybe I wanted to get to know the real him and how he truly saw himself. Maybe I felt bad for him because perhaps this was what he was conditioned to want. He was right in the aspect that we were 100% raised differently. I, a broken home, falling under that one stereotype, whilst his family fell under that one model minority stereotype.
No, I don’t believe I can change someone in one interaction. Still, I do believe that maybe if I love them the way God intended for us to love others, perhaps I could lead them to not say racist things in the guise of being uneducated about another minority group.
This wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back, as I take a step back from dating. I’m still going to be a lover girl in my own right as I pour into my friends, family, and church —and myself, of course. Being single isn’t something that defines me. It’s literally the most uninteresting thing about me, but I do think it’s fascinating to write about it as I’m navigating it.
I hope this helps someone out here. And just a PSA, I don’t hate the guy and I am 100% not judging him for the way he is, but people are just so interesting sometimes. Yes, he might’ve sent me through a mini identity crisis as I asked myself all week, “Who am I? Who do I want to be? How does the world see me?” But regardless of it all, it made me more grounded. I am who I was before and after that interaction —the same.