Real talk: I will ask for you.

Writing 4 Minutes

It’s not easy to ask. For, love.

No, it’s not easy, to ask, to be seen.

Yea, it sure aint easy, to ask, to be heard.

Yet, ask we must.

WE MUST!

I find myself hesitating, beloveds, to share this particualr part of me, of my heart. Not because I am ashamed. But, because some of those words contain memories best left in the past, or so I used to tell myself.

Okay. Okay! I am getting to the telling…*sigh*.

Since getting off work tonight I have been playing Mariah Carey’s version of “I Want To Know What Love is” on repeat. Over and over and over. Still listening to it now, truth be told. My heart just won’t leave me alone, these days. My heart keeps pestering me, nudging me, shouting at me to KNOW what love is.

Enough already! This, I tell to my heart.

Shut up, already! You bothering me. You keeping me from ignoring this void, this yearning to KNOW, dammit, what love is.

If I were to be honest, COMPLETELY HONEST, beloveds, my heart has been demanding my attention, on the matter, for aeons now, years now, decades, sadly, now. Only, she, my heart, aint going gently into some cold, goodnight. She, my heart, has had just about enough of my foolishness of ignoring her, my heart, in order to cater to the needs, to the hearts of the world, of others.

It’s what we do, us folk of color. Especially, us women of color. Yep, we have grown up learning we have to keep it shut, take care of all things menfolk, give every ounce of our dreams and ourselves to make sure our families, our jobs, our menfolk, our chillun has all of THEIR needs, THEIR hearts, THEIR goals, THEIR love, fulfilled. While, we waited until….

Only, our until never comes. What’s worse, if we have THE nerve to even hint about asking when our turn might be to ask, to have, to live, to love, to have love returned, to us, we get bashed upside the head with guilt, anger, or, what’s worse, indifference.

So, we learn to hide, in plain sight, behind:

Hard work.

Laughter.

Food.

Service.

Rinse.

Repeat.

And, it’s NOT that we don’t love to laugh, to work hard, to serve others. It’s just, just, just….

*sigh*.

It’s just easier, or so we lie to ourselves, to hide behind service, giving, working and telling ourselves that it’s okay to be forever not chosen, not seen, not heard. But, we KNOW, don’t we, the REAL truth? We, all of us, in some form or fashion, until we get some healing, are all bleeding, in plain sight.

It has taken me five decades, FIVE!, to learn, through the ever patient, the ever relentless love of God, for me, that I learned HOW to love me some me. As a writer, words are important to me. They always have been. I have ALWAYS had this yearning, to let folks know they were important, that they were loved. Even as a little girl. I was born with this calling I guess you can call it.

Ironic though because my parents were never word people. Mom showed her love through service. She cooked. She fed the neighborhood. She cooked for the church. My greatest memories are of hanging out, in the kitchen, as mom cooked for this one or that one or for us.

My dad was not a word person, either. His way of teaching was with the rod. Beat the hell out of, or into his kids, depending on how you looked at things. He also taught us, me, about hard work. About doing your best, about being the best. Always.

As a person of color, we ALWAYS had to be ten times better, we were told, in order to have a sliver of what white folks had. And, we had to keep our head down, keep it moving, keep it pushing. To this day, it it still necessary for folks of color to be better, try harder, just to get a scrap or two.

Yet, thankfully, this current crop of young folk of color and other races and aces, are, and have been teaching us old heads to go on ahead and ASK for things to be better, to get what we need. They are smart, these young ones. Yet, they still have so much to learn from us old heads….*sigh*…these young folks don’t understand that but for those, who kept it shut(of the mouth variety) is the very reason they can speak loudly and proudly now. They shall learn.

So, having parents who taught me to keep it shut, the world also helped to keep me silent, not asking for love, to be seen, to be heard. I’m not blaming my folks, or the world, for keeping me quiet. Truth be told, the real culprit was fear. Or, me of being afraid. To, ask. To believe that I was even worthy of love. Such a sad, sad thought to me, now. Such a foreign thing that I have ever spent a moment doubting my worth, my place, in the world.

Now that I have learned how to ask, I find myself wanting to ask for love for those who have not yet learned how to ask. I find myself wanting to ask for those who don’t yet know how truly priceless they really are.

I plan on doing a lot of asking, for a lot of folks. I am asking for love, for YOU, he/she/they eyes who view these words. I am asking for Love to love you so much and so hard that you will never doubt for another moment how truly you are loved.

Don’t worry, I got you. It’s okay, if you hide, still, behind work, behind food, behind laughter, behind service. I got you. What’s more, I won’t give away your secret. We shall know, though, your heart HAS been seen, has been heard, has been prayed for, has been thought about.

By, me.

By, God.

By, Life.

Hopefully, soon, by you.

By, others.

For now, now, of a surety that someone is asking, on your behalf, for all the love your heart can hold.

asking,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

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Published by Cassandra S.

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