I’ve always had this idea that loneliness and happiness cannot live in the same house.

I told myself, this time I will try to be comfortable with the idea of not being in love, and not being in a relationship. I told myself I would take this time to heal, and to grow, and to learn how to love myself even in the absence of a lover. That time came and went before I even truly had it. I met someone…an amazing person actually, and started building an intimate relationship with them. I told myself there must be some divine timing or universal synchronicity  to this – I told myself too eagerly, to let it happen.  I listened to that voice. I listened to my comfort zone. I allowed this person to stay in a my life when I didn’t need them, when I  needed me more. But I continued to live in this lie, because the truth- the truth is scary to me. The truth is uncomfortable. The truth is that I am terrified of being alone, and I am terrified of being left, and unwanted. This pattern isn’t new; It is consistent in my life, and I’ve always defended it to the graveeee, of why  *this* person was absolutely necessary.

Some childhood trauma is definitely the root, and I am aware of that, and have been aware of that for more time that I would like to admit to. I am aware that I never want anyone to leave me because then, it proves my unworthiness that I feel. The root of this is my father leaving me, and then my mother. The two relationships that I feel are most important, have been disappointing and hurtful to say the least, and I’ve carried that experience with me through all my relationships. Loneliness seems more detrimental to me now, than ever before. Loneliness feels like loss, emptiness, and vulnerability. Of course there are days when I feel like I can grow from this, and I can be strong and powerful in this moment of uncomfortability and uncertainty; I could say that, I could post on my Instagram about how “nothing ever grows from your comfort zone”, and I swear I could be this voice of only positivity, and “good vibes”, but I would be lying to myself. I would be contributing to this movement that can only project positivity and happiness (that is often falsified, forced and exaggerated). I don’t always want to be a light, or *correction*, I can’t always be a light. Loneliness is draining and dangerous. Loneliness has caused me – too often – to set fire to myself, thinking… anything would be better than being numb.

I say that loneliness has been much more challenging for me now than ever, because it is very easy to see how past lovers are doing. It is very easy to see how they’ve moved on without you. It is very easy to see them “happy”, in pictures that are too easily accessible. And although we may think, “well, they aren’t really that happy”- whether they be past lovers or strangers, the question still exists, ” well maybe they are and if they are, how come I’m not?”, and the thoughts never end. Everyone just seems so happy, emphasis on *seems*, and it easily allows for feelings of loneliness and exclusion. Loneliness feels a lot like rejection and failure to me. If I’m not “dating” or “talking” to someone, then I must be unworthy and undesirable. I know that that is not true, but there’s a voice of fear that screams louder than the truth sometimes. Because of this “fear”-this fear of being unwanted , I make sure to never be alone. I’ve often been single, but never alone. Loneliness would be a depth too deep for me to feel safe in. I struggle in wondering if how I feel is at all normal because normalcy is just “happiness” now, and in order to be accepted, in any social capacity, you should be happy or at least pretend to be. Even if today I can’t be a light, even if today I am filled with so much sadness I feel like I could suffocate, maybe there is someone out there that just needed someone like me, to write this, to let them know, they are not alone.

I’m not saying that I am anti-light or anti-growth, what I’m saying is I’ve never witnessed any light without darkness, and I’ve never witnessed any growth that didn’t start beneath the ground. I crave the authenticity of people, I crave the good and the bad, and this world has taken truth and silenced it, and it deemed it as unattractive.There is this obsession with creating a picture perfect life on social media and it is draining people of the best thing that God has given us -which is the ability to connect and relate and feel as human beings. 

So heres to some truth, I’m fucking lonely and bored as shit.

Yesterday I was on my way to the women’s march in NYC to advocate equality, excercise my first amendment right, and to be around women who shared the same beliefs as I. I was with my friend Ana who was very avid and excited to go to the women’s march, but we were stuck in non-moving traffic. I told her that I don’t feel like a “feminist” per se. I still feel undecided on the label “intersectional-feminist” as I feel it has been falsely used as a way to pretend to be “woke”without really doing the work. I am very comfortable however, with the term womanist. Womanism is a term coined by Alice Walker to make the distinguishment between white feminism and black feminism- and described it as the difference between purple and lavender. Part of me felt that maybe I was thinking negatively, and what I was feeling was counterproductive and divisive to the entire movement. But part of me still felt that people didn’t understand what it means to be intersectional, and they just use this buzzword as a means to be “politically correct”, but their activism is not actually intersectional, and their lack of education/awareness confirms that. It was hard to explain how I felt to Ana, because I couldn’t really sort of my thoughts.

When I finally arrived to the women’s march, I saw a lot of anti-trump signs which was to be expected following the inauguration. There were signs that read “this pu**y grabs back”, and “impeach the cheet-o”. At first glance, I was like “yeah!”, all for it, you guys are cool, but something still felt uncomfortable. I couldn’t wrap my head around what was so uncomfortable about it, like here I am with all these powerful amazing women who are using their voice to protest injustice and inequality.There were points where I stopped chanting and just stared into space trying to understand why I felt a little out of place. Then I seen a woman with one of those temporary gold tattoos on her face that pictured a uterus. And in my mind I’m like why do I keep seeing these uterus illustrations and signs, like oh that’s what makes a woman? 

I’m all for being positive, so I’m talking to myself in my head like “this is great, wtf is your problem Lakota?”. Then I seen these two little girls standing together, chanting, one was black the other was white. I was just like ” Oh my gosh! this is amazing” and the mom was standing there with her cardboard sign that so boldly said “BLACK LIVES MATTER”. In that moment I was so hopeful and filled with joy for our future.
But then that’s when it hit me. I knew she understood that it was more than a movement about “grabbing pu**ys”, and “nasty women”. I felt like among the sea of all these women they didn’t understand. They didn’t understand that a poster of a uterus is transphobic, and non-inclusive and counterproductive to feminism, and also not to mention women who are born without a uterus or had to undergo surgery to have it removed. I also felt like the anti-trump signs were giving him way too much energy. Then I seen multiple signs saying “ I’m with her” as a respect paid to Hillary Clinton, and as black woman I wasn’t enthusiastic about having a woman who has agreed on policies that would encourage mass incarceration that jailed black men disproportionately as a result of racism. And I never felt ecstatic about electing a woman, just because she was a woman- whilst simultaneously ignoring her support for racist policies. As a womanist, my first concern, and first thought when it comes to feminism is not Donald Trump and his comments, it just isn’t. My thoughts are with Sandra Bland, my thoughts are with socio-economic racial and sexist inequality, and the creation of platforms that will create hypervisibility for women of color.  It just doesn’t work like that for me, my blackness, my sexual orientation, economics, and education all play into my feminism- and even outside of myself, I see the issues that disabled women face, and women who are immigrants, trans-women, and women who are not upper or middle class. I felt heavily that something was wrong here- where were these “intersectional” feminists at for black lives matter protests? We are here standing in solidarity with them, but they are not here for us. I felt like the “bond” that I was supposed to feel there, felt pressured and falsified. I felt deeply that these women did not understand or care to understand issues that do not directly affect them – especially if they are white, middle-class, able-bodied, and cis-gendered. Overall I just felt like trivial issues were spotlighted, while there are women who are really suffering and weren’t just offended by the speech of an unfortunately ignorant president. It’s just that when I think of women’s empowerment, I don’t think of it as a reaction to what a man has to say about us. Feminism, and the work towards equality of the sexes has to have transparent priorities. If there are women who cannot use the public restroom because they are not cis-gendered, I think that holds more weight than wanting to free a nipple. And I think if a woman can be killed by law enforcement because she is a black woman and there is no justice is served- then that also holds more weight than being upset that men view body hair as a masculine feature and now suddenly I should rock a bush under my arm. I  hate that we don’t fight the same fight because I do feel that it is divisive- but I feel strongly that black women have been fighting for our lives, without the support of most white women, and their fight is generally trivial and economic-based without priority. Also, I kept seeing on the news how it was a peaceful protest and there were no arrests, and it felt like shade to the black lives matter protests. That also didn’t sit well with me. The difference was clear- the mode of policing was much different because of privilege. I also felt like these women don’t have anything to be genuinely enraged about. Immigrants, Muslim women, disabled women, Black women, women of color, women in the LGBTQ community, are all at risk significantly greater than women of the majority. They are endanger of having their civil rights and liberties taken from them under the new presidency. Not only are they at risk, they are outrightly being threatened just for who they are. I just cannot stand comfortably next to a woman in the march who has on a pink wig with a sign that says “this pu**y grabs back”, and take her seriously, when there are women who are genuinely suffering and being killed. For us, racism and sexism work collectively together, and they are not separate issues.I think in order for women to be able to  come together- and actually stand in true solidarity, more white women need to practice intersectional feminism, and unite with women whose lives are vastly different from their own. They would have to actually care about injustices, and discriminations that happen outside of themselves. 

Overall, I enjoyed the women’s march by appreciating those who were intersectional, and just being hopeful for the future- and that hopefully in this age of information, people who have the resources will do the work to educate themselves, and we can genuinely come together.