Anything You Can Do, I Already Did Worse: What Bugs Me The Most About The Boomers

If you’ve followed my blog for a while, you know that I don’t come for Boomers. My general stance on Boomers is that they did what we were taught to do: pay your taxes, vote for whomever you feel made the best case, and try to make the best out of this shitfest called “life.” I don’t necessarily hold them blameless but I’m not one of those people hell-bent on tying every inconvenience or perceived injustice to people who were born decades before I was even thought of and probably have their own grievances against the generation before them as well.

But, there’s this one thing that I keep hearing or witnessing over and over again that I find troubling. The Boomer need for one-upmanship of the worst things in life is unlike I’ve ever known. Granted, we all know that at least a base level narcissism seems to be a recurring feature of the Boomer generation. But the constant game of “How Low Can You Go?” is concerning.

Recently, I was reading the Facebook post of a friend who had experienced a few of her own health challenges. She was recounting how after going through debilitating health issues and other issues beyond her control, her mother, a Boomer, sent her an e-mail in which, instead of empathizing with her child’s pain, she went on to talk about the tough time she had being a single mother and raising my friend. My friend is near 40.

When I read the post, the first thing I thought was:

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We’ll look over the fact that being a parent is a choice while debilitating illness is not. Where was the care and concern for the well-being of your child who couldn’t even get out of bed many days?

The problem though is that this behavior is not uncommon amongst Boomers. They seem to have the uncanny knack for either being completely dismissive, purposely obtuse, or morbidly competitive with the generation (and-a-half since the media can’t decide if Gen X/Xennials existed or not) under them. In the best case scenario, they are just flippantly aloof. In the worst case scenario, they’re prepared to argue you down about how they had it worse than you for 20 minutes.

I’m not certain how the generation that came from the generation that endured The Great Depression (aka The Greatest Generation) has turned out so callous about the suffering of other people, even their children. What’s funnier is that this was probably the last generation that, en masse, were taught things like manners in school. This is the last generation that was expected to have a grasp of the basic social contract. This is the last generation that is expected to understand and commit to, “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all,” and bring soup and casseroles to people they hardly even know.

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Further, I wonder if they realize their lack of empathy is being passed down to the very people who will be responsible for figuring out their ultimate trajectory once they lose mobility, cognition, or their systems start to shut down. Tables have a way of turning, even if it’s because someone picks them up and turns them. Imagine the furor over putting Marge in the Sunny Days Senior Residence with the D- rating and roaches estimating that because her children’s super smartphones died, they had it waaaaay worse than her losing the ability to control her bowels and swallow.

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While I don’t think the beef between the generations will ever be completely cleared up, I can’t imagine the Boomer need to play tit for tat is helpful. There’s a reason the words “trauma,” “therapy,” and “depression” have been unofficially trending on social media the last 5 years.

miss j

The Black Girls’ Plight: Stressed Is Better Than Sensitive

This blog is going to be a little different. It’s not going to be one of my rousing witty critiques. Yet, I think it’s necessary.

With that said, this blog is dedicated to every Black girl, 8 to 80, who has ever been stifled, ignored, abused, shouted down, wrongly accused, unprotected, and antagonized; and didn’t have the love, support, voice or power to stop it.

Recently, a fellow blogger friend, LaFemme Aequitas, and I were talking about platonic relationships. We discussed friendships, upbringings, familial relationships, etc…In particular, we talked about how biology is often used as an excuse (more like bargaining chip) to tether us to people who are not good for us.

Many people are raised to put family over everything. It doesn’t matter that Uncle Henry nearly blinded you with a low ball glass while in a drunken rage when you were 8…and 12…and 14…and 18, he’s still Uncle Henry. It’s not a big deal that your parents either engaged in or shrugged off verbal, mental, physical, or emotional abuse or neglect. They’re still your parents and although you had no choice in that whatsoever, you still owe them reverence ‘cause 8 hours of labor and food on the table.

The Baby Boomer generation has been far more willing to overlook familial mismanagement in the name of honoring their elders. That’s their choice. But, the unintended consequence was that by repressing their parents’ bullshit, they visited that same bullshit upon their children, also known as GenX/Xennials/Millennials. Not only that, but they expect us to respond in the same docile way they did. They want us to make nice…bygones…fughettaboutit! At worst, they’ll just act like there were no problems. They wish to uphold the belief that parent-child respect is a one-way proposition that always leaves children empty-handed.

Welcome to the Terrordome. Because these days it’s easier to access people for support or collect information to help make sense of things, the cat has been let out of the bag. The youngins don’t feel like they have to force a fake grin anymore. We know what gaslighting and manipulation is. We can easily determine the narcissists among us. We recognize the hypocrites regardless of the masks they wear. We’re not afraid to say that if Aunt Marie is coming to Thanksgiving dinner, we aren’t coming. We know that there’s a fly in the milk and that simply pouring out the milk won’t be enough. The whole glass has to be thrown away. We have definitive criteria about who needs to be #cancelled, blood ties or not.

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I posted this yesterday on my personal Facebook page:

Trust

LaFemme Aequitas calls it “dark wisdom.” I call it discernment; the ability to pick up the energy that people emit and whether or not they are safe to be around. When I say safe, I don’t mean a general safety but whether or not they should be allowed to freely occupy your own space based on what it takes to keep you at peace.

As a Black woman who used to be a Black girl, I have found that operating in that discernment or any type of sensitivity can be a hard journey; especially when dealing with family. Black girls are always either “angry,” “crazy,” or “bitter.” You have a “bad attitude” and are “disrespectful.” Even the people who know for a fact that the things you perceive are true, will quickly label you as the negative one. You cannot be hurt, offended, or upset by anything. Any suggestion that you may be right about something being wrong will be used to try to lambaste you instead. Believing that you are entitled to the same respect that the living thorn in your ass (and their defenders) think they’re entitled to will get you swiftly ostracized or reprimanded. What happens if the person or situation you’re discerning is related to you? You should expect a double dose. What happens if the person or situation you’re discerning involves a male? Expect a triple dose. You’ll get proof of the existence of unicorns before anybody defends you without conditions.

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So, what to do?

Preserve yourself. To some, you are overly-sensitive. Some will say you are carrying a bone or grudge. But, I have found that in many instances, carrying that bone will save you. You don’t have to forget a damn thing. You don’t have to “get over” shit. It’s not your obligation to make people feel comfortable while they trespass your boundaries and then, have the gall to try to indict you. You are allowed to give it with the same intensity with which you get/got it. You’re allowed to ignore them. You are allowed to completely divest. You can disallow them entry into your physical or emotional space. You are not an emotional workhorse. Anyone….ANYONE who suggests that you should be is your adversary and is deserving of your scrutiny.

Inner peace is one of the most precious things that anybody can have. Do whatever you have to do to regain or protect yours.

To the people who may feel indicted by this piece, that means you’re either guilty of this behavior or have stood by and watched another adult do it and didn’t intervene, making you complicit.

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Quick story: The other day, while on an errand at Target, someone stole my front license plate. So all weekend, I’ve had to worry about driving and not getting a ticket since the registration office was closed. I’ve had to figure out what time to get to the registration office to beat the crowds. I had to wait for the police to call me back to take a report. I had to call the tollway authority and be placed on hold. I worried about whether or not the tollway authority would accept just a report number or if I’d have to go downtown, get a paper report and fax it in. I’ve wondered what kind of mischief the thief planned to do under my plate (and therefore, my name) all weekend before I could get it changed. The person who stole my license plate? They didn’t have to worry about shit all weekend. They probably slapped my plate on their car and hit the streets all weekend. They probably kicked back with a beer and a sandwich and watched the fight with glee. They may have even sold it and made a little cash. I have vowed to never visit that particular Target again.

I’m sure you get my point. The emotional, mental and physical toll it takes for children of all ages to fabricate problems that don’t/didn’t exist or exaggerate how those issues affect them isn’t worth it just to bring someone down or garner attention. The victims always pay the highest price. They don’t get to relax. They don’t get to forget. They don’t get to pretend. Do what you should have been doing all along: listen and listen from an honest place. If you feel offended, deal. How do you think they’ve been feeling?  Had you been paying attention, you’d know. Willful denial will not help the situation either (“I don’t know why she/he _____”).

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But, alas, nobody can make you care. Just know that childhood is when we learn who to trust and how to trust. Don’t disqualify yourself in the name of pride.

I end this blog the way I began it: to all the Black girls, 8 to 80, who had to put up with more than they should have, who never received validation, and whose souls have never gotten a chance to fully heal, I believe you and I’m sorry.

zora neale quote

 

“We Are Not Our Grandparents:” Yeah, That’s Pretty Clear

About the last month or so, there has been this theme floating around social media. It has shown up on t-shirts, sweatshirts, caps, mugs and probably underwear too. It has become even more popular in the wake of Donald Trump’s election.“We Are Not Our Grandparents” seems to have become the new rallying cry to tell whites of all ages that the overt racism that has begun to re-rear its ugly head will not be met with chants of “We Shall Overcome” a la 1962.

Before I go on, I want to jump into the “Way Back” machine. My grandparents came up in a harsh era. They came up before DNA evidence was used to exonerate a Black person of a crime they were falsely accused of at the whim of a disgruntled white person. There were no cell phone cameras to record racist encounters which could then be posted on worldwide platforms in the hopes that the racist of record would be shamed into obscurity; or at least a half-hearted apology. The only “safe space” they had might have been a Black church if they were lucky. There were no “trigger warnings” before reading a racist diatribe in the weekly gazette.

My grandparents were also hard workers. My mother’s father came from a line of land owners. Post-emancipation, they worked for nobody. My great-great grandfather built one of the first schools for other children of color in the county. They farmed their own land and sold their own yield. My great-grandfather was an acclaimed agriculturalist who somehow managed to transform the soil quality and teach others his techniques. They had 12 children and sent all of the living to college. My grandparents had 8 children and sent all of the living to college as well.

They knew that nothing was free and everything required either money, work, or both. When they or their children needed something that may have been a financial stretch, there was no Go Fund Me; there was Go Get An Extra Job. Sacrifice was not a problem for them because they knew that what they needed outweighed what they wanted and waxing tragic about people who had more than they did and how that wasn’t fair was a waste of time and literally does not pay. They always took care of business and always had more than enough.

I know that many people interpret, “We Are Not Our Grandparents”, to mean that the non-violence angle of the Civil Rights Movement of the 60s is no longer an option to which the current generation is willing to subscribe. The truth is that the non-violence stance took a level of maturity, wisdom, and discipline that this generation simply does not have.

This is a generation that shuns wise advice as “shaming.” This is also a generation that will become frustrated because the same people with the wise advice won’t help them. This is a generation that will write 3,000-word “think pieces” on the evils of capitalism in rapid succession and then, after spending their last $10 on a Marvel movie (and you bet’ not say nothing to them about it), will set up a Go Fund Me asking the public to use the money potential donors earned through participating in capitalism to help them pay for anything from rent to a vacation because work is traumatizing.

As an aside, the founders of GFM sold a majority stake in the company for several hundred million dollars. They’re chillin’ off a percentage of the money you had people donate to you for rent in the name of circumventing “the system.” Death to capitalism, right?

I have said and will continue to say that without the election of President Obama, these same people who have become Tumblr scholars would still have been walking around ignorant to how insidious racism is. Our grandparent’s generation had to learn that lesson early and down to their bones. Their life depended on it. Yet, they managed to survive and progress at the same time that their churches were being bombed and the KKK was at their front door. Many of them had to sit vigil with shotguns just to keep their family safe. There was no keyboard behind which they could hide.

Contrary to what Millennials say, previous generations did NOT have it easier. They realized that life is what it is and in the face of that reality continued to work, fight, and push on knowing that standing in one place with their proverbial bottom lip poked out and being mad about their parents and grandparents or even society at large, got them no closer to where they wanted to be in life. As “trigger warnings” go, our parents and grandparents should hardly be able to leave the house let alone have raised us.

Maybe some of the political moves the Boomers made caused economic trouble for Millennials. That happens throughout every generation. In 30 years, people will be pissed at Millennials for the fact that nobody knows the difference between “there”, “their”, and “they’re.”

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Oh, and that non-violence thing? On an almost daily basis, we see and read accounts of this generation coming in contact with overt and even violent racism (and other –isms/-antagonisms) and doing nothing more than posting about it on Facebook and getting their friends and followers, who ain’t gon’ do shit either, emotionally riled up for 20 minutes. This generation, that pats itself on the back for its ability to “drag” people for 90 minutes on Facebook and Twitter, doesn’t have the fortitude to offer the same wisecracks they furiously type out on Facebook when they’re face-to-face. Then, there’s the assertion that “silence is violence” and that someone calling you a name is violence. Yet, a huge part of the “dragging” people luuuuurve to do is…calling names.

With that said, George Zimmerman, the one that you who are not your grandparents guaranteed would be in hell by now, is still alive so I don’t think our generation really wants to have the non-violence discussion with our noses in the air.

Enjoy your caps, t-shirts, sweatshirts, and whatever else while they’re fresh out the box. Just remember that the major reason that you even have the luxury of walking down the street wearing a t-shirt alluding to an (idle) threat of retaliatory violence without having to let everyone know that despite your “dragging,” you ain’t about that life is because of the work of the grandparents whose work you derogate.

We are not our grandparents. We make that clear every single day.