People who know me now will find this very hard to believe, but up until I was 33 years old, I could not speak up.
People lived with me and I didn’t have the strength to ask for rent; so, they didn’t pay.
When my son was in kindergarten he was being mistreated by his “Christian” school because he is biracial and was from a single mother, and I couldn’t confront the Principal. I asked my mom to go with me. She laughed at me and told me to march into his office and tear him a new one! There was no way I could do that, so I just changed his school.
Don’t get me wrong, I have never been a church mouse. In fact, for most of my life it’s been a struggle to control my temper. But that was always a reaction because of rage, and not towards someone of power. I was to respect my elders and remain silent if my confrontations could adversely affect me or my loved ones.
That included losing a “friend” even when that “friend” wasn’t being a friend to me. I’ve had “friends” steal from me, spread lies, and slander me, and because I still loved them, I said nothing.
I now know that all of that was a result of the abuse I incurred as a child. I survived because I learned how to stay silent when I needed to, and to just take it out on others when I could.
Don’t piss me off, unless I need you, and then you can do whatever you want and I won’t say a thing.
And then, seemingly one day, that all changed.
I had spent three days at a company event to build relationships with the other team members and get them to sell more of our services. Over the course of the three days, the management conducting the training treated us like outsiders failing to even acknowledge us, or mention any partnership
As the Regional VP wrapped up the training, I began to seethe. I had given up three days of my time, losing money and neglecting my customers because of this corporate event, and they didn’t even refer to us?
As the room began to empty, I stormed up to the VP and went off. I got in his face, pointed my finger at him and told him how disgusted I was at his lack of professionalism, for wasting my and my team’s time, and not doing his job by supporting us and driving more collaboration. He leaned back against the wall to retreat from my rage but had this quirky smile.
When I stopped long enough to take a breath, he finally got a chance at a defense and said, “Sheri, I love your enthusiasm! And you are right. I’m sorry. I should have done better. Let me know what you want the message to be and I’ll make sure to send out a follow-up with full support and admitting my failure in focusing on you guys this week. I’m sorry.”
Defused, I thanked him and left.
I got in my car and burst into tears. The strongest woman I had even known died 6 months earlier. She would have been so proud.
Where had that voice come from?
Where had that bravery been all these years?
I spoke up and didn’t die. And not only did I not die, I was congratulated for doing so!
Pride and sadness consumed me. I cried, wishing my mom “could see me now!”
But, in looking back almost 18 years later, I don’t think I would have ever gotten my voice as long as she had hers.
Domineering, but funny. Intelligent but indoctrinated. My mom was a warrior who everyone stood behind. I could never imagine having her strength, so I didn’t even try.
But when she died, I had to endure it alone. I had to do what she would have done and handle it — her remains, the service, the honor, grief, loss, and evidently being forced to grow up.
In hindsight I still don’t know how I did it, but it gave me the strength and fortitude that had been surrendered in childhood.
My mom was gone and while she wasn’t the best at protecting me, her presence still made me feel safer than being alone.
But now I was alone, and something inside of me embodied her warrior spirit and gave me my voice back.
She taught me what I needed, and her actions taught me what I should avoid.
I hope to honor her by standing in the power of love instead of anger.
I hope to use my voice to create positive change, not furthering control.
Now, I won’t be silent when there is injustice, intolerance, or hate.
I will use my voice to make the world a better place and stand for those who haven’t found their voices yet.
I will use my mother’s strength and wear it as a crown.
I know she would be proud, and as her child, there’s really nothing better.
Thank you, Mom.
Even in death, you are still helping me grow.
