I've expressed in previous blog posts my disdain for small talk, but I’m learning to go with it. I accept that most people are more comfortable with surface-level small talk, capped with the obligatory “Let’s get drinks and catch up!” which, let’s be real, is often more performance than promise. All of which is ok, do you boo boo.
Recently, I had to attend an event, and I mentally geared up for it like it was game day. On the way there, I hit the pen, lightly, okay? Just enough to calm my nerves, nothin’ too crazy. Upon arrival, I surveyed the room for the perfect introvert cozy corner: near the waiter’s entrance (to grab hors d’oeuvres and drinks), the bathroom (for emergency pep talks), and ideally with a clear view of the exit. I know a corner seat hates to see me coming! I found my spot, settled in and people-watched for a bit, honestly my favorite part. I love seeing people happy and having fun. Folks came over to chat, and I engaged. I really did! But after I left, the post-event panic set in:
Oh God, did I have diarrhea of the mouth again?
Y’all, I was saying things like:
When I walk into the room as a dark-skinned fat Black woman, my experience is totally different from those who don’t look like me. Just because we are Black our experiences are not the same.
I don’t feel like fighting for anything anymore especially not a seat at this raggedy table. If they don’t want me in the room I will gladly exit stage left.
Like, baby, who hurt me?! Even now I have the urge to answer that question but aht aht ssssh, silencio por favor.
I am generally a very chill person. Those closest to me are always talking about how funny I am, and I cherish the joyful moments in my life which I have many. So why do I result to sharing my thoughts from, "The Weight of the World" file in my brain? Girl, people not trying to hear all that over dry ass Cabernet and saltless chips and guac. Especially on a Friday night! I'm told the older you become the more unfiltered you are and Lord, I'm begging you, please be a filter Jesus!
I've become the socially awkward character we laugh at on TV and in movies. The Black Daria Morgendorffer. But the thoughts are real. The feelings are honest. The mouth may runneth over, but at least it speaks the truth.
Pray for me ya’ll, the struggle is real.
