https://youtu.be/Xq8mGJc5xQE

Biggie & Puffy were so good together they made Diana King sound hard.

At the age of 43 I have to admit that I am what the kids call an OG.

They also call me old head.  I am also sure they call me any number of other things but I am gonna focus on those two for this moment.

One of the benefits of being 43 is that I’ve lived such a life that I can let many things go.  My exposure to so many different things taught me to save my energy for the things that matter. I’ve also learned the things that mattered to me at 23 aren’t the same things that matter at 43. As I settle into this knowledge I realize a part of my existence must be expended to assist the youth in discerning that which “matters”.

Example:

In this transitional location there are 26 women here at any given time.  We range in ages from 20 to over 75. About a month ago my peers here elected me to be what’s called a consumer representative. My purpose in that role is to advocate for my peers and myself to management and sooth rocky waters.

While it was still a surprise to me that the vote was just about unanimous, I suspect it is not a surprise to you constant reader. I still have difficulty seeing myself through your eyes, but I am still learning.  I will get there eventually.

People look at me and see someone who will fight for them.  They see a woman who has knowledge of policy and who can fight the good fight. Historically I know that I am capable of all those things…..in my immediate reality though I still ask; really?

I am required to advocate and mentor even when I do not understand the behaviors I am protecting. A different way to say that is while I cannot resonate with your behavior, I still fight for your rights to behave that way.

Example:

A participant in her early 20s constantly asks me for advice. That includes what she should wear to her position in retail.  When I share what I know from my years out here on the grind she rewards my advice with a manicure/pedicure of her own and an outfit 180 degrees opposite of my advice. The girl in me understands the mani/pedi. It is one of those things which a girl needs from time to time especially living in a location like this.  It is a last grasp to the humanity we once knew outside of these walls, and it is important in a sense.

What I attempted to convey to her though was the futility of buying a set of nails and the error in buying stretch pants in her size 28.

She chose another path, and while I can find a way to be alright with that….what I cannot do tell her that what she did was alright. I have to keep reminding her to look at the big picture, that same big picture I was unable to see when I was her age. Yes it frustrates me but still I do it.

One thing I also do is look at my young Black men differently these days. I’ve always been protective of them. I will always be protective of them. Today and tomorrow though I look at their reality as best I can through their eyes. I try to see their world in hopes it will make me better at my job. The world I see though is bleak at times and difficult to navigate.

My new employer is a 27/7/365 business. We contract out security. For most of my shifts I am alone with our security guard and a supervisor. I am normally the oldest of them, even if they don’t know my exact age.  In the past week one two separate occasions with two separate guards I found myself physically removing the two young Black men from danger.

In each instance I had to restrain them more than once as they told me – I can’t let anyone disrespect me.

Hearing those words makes me want to cry, but I can’t cry and hold back a grown assed man at the same time.   After all I am still 43.

For our young men out here on these streets in 2016 so many of them think the only thing that have of worth is the aura of respect they hope to preserve. Our sons are so disenfranchised from everything that White male America says they should have to be a “man” the one thing they hold onto….often to their detriment is this notion of respect.

Intellectually I get it, and personally I get it as well. A modicum of respect to me as a person goes a very long way.  I understand the need to bleed to preserve that little I own. I’ve done such, and I will do such again.

What I am unable to translate to these young men right now:

That respect you are willing to bleed for from these strangers is not the respect you seek. 

THAT is some shit they would have to go to therapy about and shit that is very unlikely to happen.  The stigma of seeking mental health treatment in the POC community set aside, these are young men working for $9.50 an hour and chances are they haven’t signed up for ObamaCare.

That is something else I’ve recalled from my youth…..that future where retirement and health care matter seems centuries away. Truth is that it is right around the corner but at 22 ….43 is beyond distant.

My first “let it go” moment with one of the guards went easier.  I have suspicions but they will float alone in my head right now. My words broke though to him simply and we were able to return to our normal programming right away.

Last night was different though.  My “let it go” moment required pulling him away from the danger he could not see twice. On a perverted note – the young man’s body fat must be around 3% because I felt zero fat as my chubby arms wrapped around his waist.

Yes – I remain perverted even when working.

When I finally got him away from the danger I held his face in my hands and told him:

You are too precious to put yourself out there that way.  It is open season on Black men out here and I won’t watch you put yourself at risk.  I get that you don’t want to be held back by an old fat woman, but what I don’t want is you to be a law enforcement statistic or yet another hash tag for Black lives matter.

He trembled at my touch and while I’ve been known to make a man shake early and often, this was rage rippling under his skin and if I am being honest as well – fear.

I talked him down last night, but I won’t be by his side always.

I hope that some of what I spoke sticks with him, but what I understand sadly is that out here in these streets sometimes respeck is all that you have. I know how to fight to maintain and retain what I have.  I know the ugly truth of the things I am willing to do to make that life of mine “right”. I also know that the existence of Clyde is reason to make me think twice before I do something reckless.  This young man may not have a Clyde and that scares me. If all you have is the idea of respect, then you will lose everything —- including your life to preserve it.  

That my friends is fucking frightening.

That is why I didn’t sleep last night.

My work is not done.

 

Aphrodite Brown