I have a confession. I hate-loathe-detest the stereotype of black women (or any woman really) as a “superwoman”. It irks me to no living end. Seriously. It has to be the most ridiculous and rude vision of a person that you can have. Superwoman has to be able to do it all, with a smile and wink… all while keeping it sexy and funny. Providing giggles and jokes for her friends and her husband (because of course she HAS a man, right). Going above and beyond every day for the “man” – unless she’s uber-superwoman, then she runs her own multi-million dollar business. She handles kids with ease, she always looks flawless and well… there isn’t anything that she can’t save, fix or prepare.
She’s superwoman. Well, let me tell you. Her name ain’t Nicole. I am NOT superwoman. For anybody. Not even myself.
I had a conversation the other day with a friend and he mentioned something that sort of pricked me. I tried to shake it off but it unnerved me for a few days. So, I did what I tend to do… I thought about it. And I thought about it for a long time. And then I put it away.
Friday, I had a breast reduction procedure and some minor tweaking on my other breast. The procedure was out-patient and although my surgeon thought that I would be down for about 2-3 weeks, I felt so fine this weekend that I decided to come to work today. Yes. Close your mouth. Superwoman is at work today.
Grr. I don’t know why I came. Well, actually I do know why I came – but I’m annoyed that I’m here. Primarily because I feel useless. While I feel fine considering that I was in surgery for 3 hours on Friday, I am stiff. I’m not trying to pop any stitches or anything like that. I’m just trying to do what I said I would do. I’ve gotten a little tired of people expecting me to do this or that and when I can’t, they are disappointed. Really tired of that feeling. So, I’m here. With my fake cape and a fake-r smile… I’m here.
One of my colleagues gave me a stern talking to about pushing too fast, trying to do too much. And I heard her but now I’m wondering whether I’m doing just what I loathe watching other women do… putting everyone else before themselves.
The comment that my friend made the other day that left me feeling a little strange was really innocuous. He told me that I wasn’t smiling and joking as much as I used to. He had his theories about why I was different and of course they were totally different from what was really going on in my head. But I found myself annoyed that I didn’t have the room to have more than one mood. I know he had no clue that his little sentence sent me into my head so deeply… but it did. I tossed it around my brain for days and finally just put it aside last night.
It is frustrating sometimes feeling like you have to keep up appearances for other people so that their worlds make sense. All I can say is that I’m trying. Some days I’m better than others. Today, I’m feeling fine and I’m at work. Tomorrow, I plan to be here too. I don’t imagine that I’ll be doing too much hanging out with my buddies over the weekend or anything. But I can manage to sit upright for a few hours and smile and pretend that this 8 hours of my life is the most important thing that is going on in my head. Until I get a chance to lay down and think about all the other things that worry me about my life.
If you bump into superwoman… do me a favor… shank her with some kryptonite. I need a new hero.
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