More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Faith looked like the type of woman who’d vote against her own best interests for validation and acceptance, the pick-me bitch who ran to powerful men anxious to hobble powerful women.
Black girls were born women. We all had attitudes, and if we spoke with too much confidence, we’d be called disrespectful.
Who hadn’t gone to a store to purchase shit like condoms, lube, a bag of mandarins, and a Star magazine, and had your cheeks burn with embarrassment because the person ringing you up looks at you like you’ve been running naked through the store after using lube and eating Cuties in the paper goods aisle? Ring the fuck up my groceries, Janice. Who are you to judge me?
lol!
Manufactured emotions were fueled with statements like, “I’m so stupid for thinking this was a good decision,” or “Why did I do that—it was that dumb.”
“You keep thinking those thoughts,” Dr. Pugh said, “about how stupid you are. By doing that, the emotion—anger, bitterness, fear—never dissipates. It can’t dissipate—” “Because I keep fueling the fire,” I said, nodding. “Which means you never recover from your trauma.”
“Well . . . If I had to save either her or Harvey from a volcano, I’d jump into the volcano instead. They’re awful people.”
Survival required compromise. Career advancement forsaken to be a full-time parent. Doing all the emotional labor in a romantic relationship to avoid conflict. Neglecting self-care to care for others.
