Often we shorten emails for our Maha Monday sessions – but this week’s just needed a long, and serious talk. Fire off your own question in the anonymous box at the bottom of this post!
Its been 2 months and 21 days since we broke up. I read this and I bawl, because I just broke the first rule (of no contact) today and because I’m the bff that desperately needs help.
We broke up because his father did not approve of me, simply because I was of a different race. We knew it would happen, we talked about it all the time. But when it DID happen, he cried, I cried – he had no courage to go against his dad and I was in no position to bleach my skin or switch my heritage, much less argue. And the old man did not even meet me, he simply found out I was of a different race and concluded that ‘I would only make a great friend, not a good life partner’. I doubt he even knows my name. The dude’s lived under his father’s strict rules for the whole of his 28 years, even having a curfew up till the age of 26.
Today I texted him to tell him that I forgave him, because I rationally concluded that the whole thing was not his fault, but later I ended up sobbing and in tears when a friend asked, ‘Why are you still angry?’
I realised that I am angry because he could’ve done something about it, I am angry because I felt cheated – if he knew that would happen, he shouldnt have initiated a relationship in the first place. I am angry for being judged based on my racial identity, and not for me as an individual person.
My friends told me he was not mature enough for me, despite me being 7 years younger than him (I just turned 21), because he did not stand up for me. After having spent almost a year together, my heart aches so bad. It was a first relationship for both of us, and I feel so frustrated by the fact that the breakup was not our own doing, but a matter of circumstances. I still have to see him every week, which somehow makes it… worse. I still see the hurt on his face, and it reflects the hurt in my heart.
My friends insist that I am still stuck in this rut, no matter how little I talk about it. I keep getting reminders that I have so much more to be grateful for, often I feel like my tears and worries are not warranted at all. Everyone insists that I’ve yet to let it go, but how can I when it was the happiest I had been, and it felt so real?
Is crying after two months since it ended wrong? Am I simply a foolish young girl, with the experience of a first relationship (as everyone points out)? Is this really reality? It’ll get even worse as it goes?
I am so desperately lost. I hope you see this, dear Maha. I read Chai Latte Diaries on FB so often, I’ve often felt like it was you talking to me personally.
Dearest One Riding A Unicorn Through A Meadow,
Thank you for reading CLD (Editor’s note: And Elle Beaver!!); you are lovely and gracious with your words x
Now. Of course you’re angry; you were dating the son of Jim Crow. Jesus Christ, I’m angry for you.
Though you know the real reason you ought to be angry? Your ex has proven that he lacks strength and courage, and has an inability to take a principled stand against the ignorant and violent racism of his family.
You are refusing to take off your rose-coloured glasses and place responsibility where responsibility belongs – on his shoulders. This is your biggest problem and the thread throughout your message to me; you are in deep and painful denial about who is at fault. You are in deep and painful denial about the fact that your first love is wholly responsible for your break-up.
You gambled on a man and you lost. It’s really not as big a deal as you believe it to be (right now). Appreciate that you did; respect that you believed in love, even if you lost. Because the alternative is that you will regret having gambled and then you will never gamble again, instead choosing to be an embittered creature who doesn’t open themselves to the possibilities and wonders of love. Don’t be this person; this person is generally repulsive – if not at first, then a little later when we take a closer look at them. Trust this reality.
Sweetheart, I will never begrudge anyone for believing that love will win over hatred and racism. For this, I do not fault you and I think that you are a beautiful and hopeful creature to have believed. Except now is the time that you stop and instead turn to, deal with, and get over the realities of your current state, as painful as they are.
The reason you have not been able to let go is because you’re still riding some weird unicorn through some pretty and false meadow and you think you’re headed back to your man because it wasn’t his fault! It was circumstance! And he’s so sad! Well, the truth of the matter is that he’s not sad enough. He’s not sad enough to challenge racism and ignorance. He’s not sad enough to say ‘I have no room for racism, but I have room for her’. He’s not sad enough to tell his father to blow it out his racist ass. He’s not sad enough to fight for you.
Stop this wallowing. He is unworthy so a million times: Stop it.
Get off your unicorn, run out of the meadow, face the harsh reality that your ex is a weak man, raised by a weaker man, today and always tomorrow under the control of the later.
Instead, be angry. Be rage-y. Be incensed that your colour and ethnicity trumped your character. Be pissed the fuck off that some asshole thinks you, or any of us, are defined by our skin tone and not by our actions and deeds and intentions. Be even angrier that the argument against racism, the easiest argument to make, is not one which your ex boyfriend felt was one he could make or wanted to make on your and his behalf. He did not think you or what you had was strong enough to withstand racism. Woman, get angry and nauseous by these realities, but don’t you dare continue to be sad over this loss. Be grateful that the Universe said “Hell, no!” to this nonsense. Rubble has been cleared from your path, now run straight forward and stop being stuck in this ugly little moment.
What your ex pulled is nothing short of complete and unequivocal bullshit. When you can see that clearly, you will begin to heal. Take off your rose coloured glasses, sister, and put on your race glasses. This dude and his family are gro-tesque and for all of your love and warmth, think about what that racist grandfather would have graced into the lives of your children. Which, probably a pointy white hat. Get this into your head as hard as possible. Body-check yourself every single moment you feel gentleness – right now, your only move is one of anger and harshness. This is the emotional reflection of the scab on a physical wound. Get angry, so that you might start closing that wound. In time, your scab will fall away and the scar will fade. Now is not that time. So please please please, my love: Get angry. Fight for yourself where your ex did not. Stand up for yourself in place of his choice to prostrate.
Get some markers and write it all over your mirror. Make it your screen saver, your phone lock message, scribble it in ink in your palm. Ask God / Jesus / Mother Nature, whomever, ask that they remove this pain from your heart, ask that you see the reality through the fog, ask that your load is lightened and you move forward rather than look back.
By the way, why are you seeing him every week? Because surely you can avoid seeing him? Seeing him, even if you do not speak to him, it is a form of contact, a form of communication. Stop lying to yourself and start changing your schedule. Again, get off your unicorn, run out of the meadow.
I know that in this moment, you feel like the world is maddening in its injustice, but trust me when I tell you that you are so God damn blessed that this Universe cleared from your path a man with no character or courage, a man who can not, on the easiest of principles, stand up to his father who is DEAD WRONG. A man who is so fully controlled by his family that you would come in 10th, if lucky. You’re 21. You will love again and harder. Trust me. It will happen. It always does.
As to your other questions, I can not answer them in good faith because it might get worse. It might get better. For me, it got better, then worse, and then I totes managed to find people even worse than what you find in Japanese-gangster-murder-thriller novels. YAY ME. But I rage and cry and yell at my BFFs on Skype and in restaurants and then I meet someone else and I love again with an open heart every time. Every single time, because what beauty is there if it is not to be found in the emotional, physical and spiritual webs we weave with those we meet?
I love your spirit. I understand and hear all of your confusion. I have felt your heartbreak and heartache and I PROMISE you so much, that you will get better. That you have reached out to me says that you are looking for guidance – it’s like standing up and admitting you have a drinks problem, only you have a racist-foundation-on-which-a-cowardly-unprincipled-silly-little-spineless-man stands problem.
Please, love of God and your beautiful and amazing skin colour and exquisite being, please do not contact this man ever again. Let sleeping dogs lie and start your healing immediately. You are better than this sadness.
In your corner, shoving you, tugging you and dragging you off of your unicorn and out of the meadow,