Birds of a Feather

Now and then, I think of every bitch who has burned me. I think of all of the weak-asses who had the nerve to project their weak-ass insecurities onto me. From grown-ass, old-ass women to the wannabe hotties and weird-ass girlies my own damn age. I used to let women’s projections get me out of my body because, though I didn’t have the highest self-esteem, I still did not play about me.

I was an easy target for girls and women to project their insecurities onto me. As a young girl, I was quiet and cutesy. I was always in my own little world. Anytime I was left alone with my big sister was when I would really act out.

I was never afraid to speak up for myself or have a minor crash out on a weird ass ho. However, it still left me feeling like I did something wrong. To be transparent, being the youngest girl, growing up, I feel like I have been on the receiving end of the projections of insecure women. As a grown woman, I realize that from an early age, this is what I was dealing with.

I think about it often and how much I felt it. I didn’t quite know how to call it projection, insecurity, trauma, or low self-esteem because I was a child. However, as I said, I felt it. It always made me uncomfortable because, as a kid, what do you do with the displaced emotions of grown-ass adults, specifically women? Children should never be on the receiving end of trauma or triggers.

Ok, I’ll tell you a story. When I was a young girl, I wanted to be a supermodel. The modeling world looked fabulous and glamorous to me. I grew up watching America’s Next Top Model. Despite the backlash it has received over the past few years, it was popular when I was a kid. My mom and I watched every single season and episode together.

I wanted to be a part of that world, going from go-see to go-see, trying to book a gig. I don’t even think I considered rejection. I just wanted to travel and pose in designer.  So, when I was 8 years old, my mom invested in my dreams and signed me up for modeling classes. Yes, it turned out to be a scam, but that is so not the point.

So, on a Thursday afternoon, we drove to Jacksonville, FL, and had me enrolled in this course. I was on top of the world that day because I felt like I was on my way to living my dreams. When we left the scam of an agency, my mom and I got on the road to head back to our hometown and go straight to bible study. Now, by the end of bible study, I was still feeling over the moon, and like a typical black church, the congregation lingered in the parking lot having a bunch of small talk.

I had bounced around entertaining myself in the parking lot, prepared to be the last to leave as always. One of the leaders of the children’s church took it upon herself to ask me why I had so much energy, as if I weren’t an 8-year-old kid. I told her that I was going to be a supermodel, and I said it with so much enthusiasm and confidence.

This woman, this elder, this so-called leader, looked at me and told me that I could never be a model because my nose was too big. As I just stood there, she called over her grown adult daughter to back up her unsolicited advice. Her daughter repeated it once more, letting me know that I could never be a model because my nose was far too big. My 8-year-old heart had sunk to my stomach and immediately shattered.

As an 8-year-old who was far too gullible, I believed them. My whole dream went to shits just like that. I didn’t want anything else to do with modeling, but my mom had already paid for the classes. My expectations had gone out the window. The only thing I wish I had done differently in that moment was to tell my mom immediately. My mom would’ve put that old, tired ass woman and her daughter in their place.

When I reflect on this as an adult, I realize that it was just projection because why else would two grown-ass women feel the need to tell a little girl what she can’t do or be. Someone must have told these women the same thing about their noses. Maybe they experienced rejection in some way or another. Maybe at some point in both of their lives, they were told just how incapable they were.

Growing up in church, being the pastor’s daughter, it was hell on earth for me. I absolutely hated it, and I must be honest about it. Religion, in addition to a small country town, just doesn’t mix. It is all so caddy, filled with women who want to be the “next” first lady. Like, what the fuck is that?! Bullshit.

From the ushers to the elders, to the deacons, from the pulpit to the choir, to the praise dancers, and if you’re really making a statement, down to the cameraman or the one who does the announcements, everyone wants a title. Why does the church ignite adults’ insecurities and toxicity? Seeking validation, feeling entitled to some control or power.

The fact of the matter is, as a young girl, I have consistently felt the emotional burdens of the grown-ass adults around me. The ease with which adults project their insecurities, desires, and wants onto children just isn’t talked about enough for me. Unfortunately, this is way too common between young girls and grown-ass women.

I once heard an Instagram model say that girls turn 18 years old every day, so it’s best to stay on your Ps and Qs. Mind you, this woman is the same age as I am currently. It’s a sick ass world we live in. Imagine being well into adulthood, worrying about the next young girl reaching the age of legal consent.  

I have questions and concerns because, for one, I don’t want to date anyone who looks at me and an 18-year-old with the same set of eyes. Perversion isn’t talked about enough or taken seriously enough for me. It made me realize how women once saw me and how often young girls are on the receiving end of women’s projections and insecurities.

Everybody is focused on all the wrong shit, wanting to be seen. Ugh, I hate to make it sound so cliché, but it is. My hometown is the typical small southern city where everyone pretty much knows everyone, and it’s nothing but gossip. My dad, having been a pastor, made everyone know me even if I didn’t know them.

Over time, this has made me more sensitive to our energy as women and to our emotions. Being on the receiving end and now being a grown woman, I have become cognizant of my actions and reactions. It is my responsibility to be honest with myself, no matter how difficult it is. Self-control is the ultimate control. Becoming more aware of myself and what is happening inside of me makes validation or justification from others mean much less.

Prioritizing myself makes the external or material world less important. I like to keep in mind that comparison is the thief. I am much happier since I started focusing on myself. I know that what is for me is mine, and what is mine will never stray.