[Word count: 1255. Approximate read time: 4-5 minutes]
One day, I was talking to a mentor about how it drove me crazy that a particular woman would not so much as give me the time of day. No eye contact, no casual hello, nothing. One would’ve thought she was harnessing her mental energy to metaphysically wish away my existence. The world has never known reception so icy. I could’ve stored raw meat on her shoulders for months.
It dominated my thoughts. Did I say something to offend her? Was my hygiene bad? Does she resent guys with hair longer than hers? Does she dislike Black men? Skinny men? Eventually, I didn’t really want her attention anymore. I just wanted to know why I couldn’t have it, and what rendered me ineligible. Maybe I wasn’t the fit for her. And that’s okay, I guess. But things like this exacerbate a long standing tradition of feeling like I’m not something enough. Pick any something:
- Not Black enough.
- Not strong enough.
- Not man enough.
- Not important enough.
- Not cool enough.
- Not young enough.
- Not established enough.
- Not charming enough.
- Not skilled enough.
- Not accomplished enough.
- Not Christian enough.
- Not persistent enough.
- Not talented enough.
- Not attractive enough.
- Not driven enough.
Bear this in mind. I am aware that I am indeed all of the above. It just seems like it’s never enough.
Junkyard Salvation 