On Black Girls Who Search for Love and Detour at Self-Destruction: Life Lessons From Queenie
It’s me. I’m a Black girl who done searched for love and detoured at self-destruction. A few times. I didn’t expect to reflect on that this holiday season but the universe has a way of doing what it wants to do. Because the universe ain’t shit.
So Christmas rolled around and I got a gift from a friend. Ok. Situationship buddy I got comfortable with for a year and some change. Then he decided new year, new him. We’ll come back to why that’s important. Anyway, the gift I got was the book Queenie by Candice Carty-Williams. And just from reading the book jacket summary I’m like dude was you trying to be funny buying this (right before he broke things off)? Turns out he has just asked another Black girl for suggestions. I mean I guess it’s cool that he took my interests into account and remembered I like reading books by Black girls about Black girls. *insert eye roll here because remember- new year, new him*
Now that I done told y’all too much of my damn business, let me get to the reason we all here. Here are a few life lessons from the book.
1) Trauma impacts who we date. At the end of every day.
Queenie dated white men for a reason. Traumatic reasons. And while that’s not my ministry, the book did force me to examine the similarities of the men I have dated. There’s a pattern. There is usually a pattern. Me? I like emotionally unavailable men. I start relationships with an expiration date. Why? I’ll work that out with Gemini Therapist but we all need to consider who we date and why. So much boils down to issues of low self-esteem, fear of abandonment, need for control…all things that can stem from trauma.
2) It’s easy to go back to what you know even when what you know isn’t what you want or need.
You know how it goes. New thing ends or goes badly and you start thinking about calling/texting the ex. Or that one who been pushing up on you for years but you ain’t never been feeling like that. Because they almost always willing to reengage. But exes are exes for a reason. And you haven’t said yes to the one pushing up on you for years because you know that wasn’t a good move. Going back to something you walked away from won’t fill voids or cure the lonely though sis.
3) Real friends are necessary.
Time and time again, Queenie needed friends to help her through. Friends to support her, listen to her hoe phase escapades, and to speak up when it became evident the hoe phase had evolved into self-destructive behavior. I know my friends would have no problem calling me in or telling me about myself.
4) Most of us could benefit from therapy.
Mostly because of #1. Trauma impacts who we date, how we love, how we communicate, how we parent. And I realize that is so much easier said than done for Black girls. First of all, that shit is expensive. Third of all, ain’t that many Black therapists in these traumatic and triggering streets. But if we have access to it, therapy goes a long way with unpacking our trauma and learning new ways to move throughout the world.
So in this new iteration of single single me, Queenie was a great a reminder that even when love doesn’t develop, manifest, last or evolve into something more, the only thing I’m turning (back) to is me. That self-destructive shit ain’t a path I’m taking again. And thankfully, like Queenie, I got friends who will call me out if I even like I might almost maybe possibly consider thinking about doing so.
And these braids in my head are purely coincidental by matching the book cover but I ain’t mad at it. A sister could use a little more of some Black girl magic right now. And braids plus some hoop earrings will do it every time.