Black girl: Reloaded.

Who am I?
I spend a lot time solo (by choice and not). Rolling in my car is when a lot of my thoughts come into play. For the past couple of weeks, I've been in kind of a funky mood, as a result of random nonsense and whatnot. Just haven't been feeling comfortable in my own skin, know what I mean? Today, something hit me like a ton of bricks, as to why I'm not feeling so great. This prompted me to do an inventory of myself, so here goes nothing:

Sometimes I feel so invisible. It's weird how I can get lost in a crowd. The said part is that I recognize it, and that just causes me to clam up more and give up on making any attempt to get noticed. Not really a good response mechanism, but not really controllable. It just happens. From a girl that has been teased essentially all of her life, it's easy to see how this can happen. If you haven't been teased, trust me, that shit does scar you for life.
I have made changes over time. I'm in the process of losing the weight I gained in college. Kinda muscley now, with a little soft filling left over (more to love I guess!). Got braces to straighten out those little imperfections here and there. I tell some of my cohortmates, I'm trying to became the hottest MPHer around. Eye candy and knowledge... a deadly combo.
Aside from physical stuff, I began to analyze my emotional and mental state. Self-diagnosis. And after I met with my advisor about my project, I have some to this conclusion: Black women have a culture of their own, but it sucks how it gets disregarded. I began to think about all the women in my family, but mainly about my grandma and mom, and what attributes I received from them, and this is what I have learned (well, about myself at least). I've gotten very good at concealing my negative emotions. Even if a person pisses me off to the nth degree, breaks my heart, kills my spirit, or stress me out, I hide it. A lot of black women I find do this as a defensive mechanism, to cut down on any worry and pity from others. There is an idea that Black women are the glue that hold families together, and being weak is unaccepted in most instances. I remember when I was a kid, my grandma used to say that there was no such thing as man's or woman's work, because you never know when you'll have to be alone. I still don't know how both she and my mom were able to raised multiple children alone. Thank God for social networking.
I also learned that I cannot take a compliment. My advisor is trying to boost my confidence in my abilities and such, but it's hard. In Jr. high and high school, I remember kids saying dumb ass shit to me when I would get good grades and awards for certain activities. That I was trying to be "White" (which I still don't quite understand. So is being complacent being "Black?" Like I said, I don't get it.). But when I got to college, people didn't give a shit of how hot you were. Talk about tailspin. Sometimes I feel like I have to play both sides, but I lose a bit of myself in the process. The idea of staying grounded and remembering who I am and where I came from, and who is still there, to continuing on, and playing the game so that I can get ahead. I guess that's why I pile so much on my plate. Sometimes, I feel like not only am I representing for myself, but for my family and the people that invested in me to continue. There is also the weight of all the generations before that did not have the opportunity to succeed (either because of the climate of the society they grew up in -- segregation or lynching), all the poor people that were left back, and just all the Black people that didn't have a chance. This weight breaks me at times, but I still press on. I overhear people saying negative shit about my abilities and why I do so much, but if they walked a minute in my shoes, they would shut up pretty damn quick.
Coming to this realization makes me even more charged about my final project idea. My advisor gave me the green light, but I just have to be sure to remain focused. If I am able to help at least one person with myself results, that would do my heart good. Maybe that one person will be myself, and with that, I will no longer be invisible.