I complain often and much of not having the power I want in my life, in my relationships and in my job. It's a consistent pattern with me, and has gotten increasingly more frustrating and dangerous as I have progressed through school. My schooling has taught me all about the sociocultural nuances of being a Black female in this society. Issues of White privilege, male privilege, straight privilege and a host of others have given me ammunition and reason to fight a battle of establishing my own power. This knowledge, combined with a general distrust and disdain for not being in control has made me a veritable Empowerment Activist. Or so, I thought.
For the last few months, power is something that I have grappled with, especially in the context of my relationship. I have begged for it, manipulated for it, complained about it, and generally have racked my brain about how I can force the Lincoln Lawyer to give it to me. I NEED more power, I begged. I HAVE to have more power, I demanded. Give me more power, or ELSE, I threatened. But nothing came to fruition. Each day, I felt less and less powerful in my relationship. As as this continued; I fought back!! I can MAKE myself more powerful, I thought. My ego became so big, this issue of MY power, MY power, MY power, made me look for it in every situation, in every remark, gesture or touch. Any suggestion that did not come from me, any attempt to break through my ego and give me negative feedback see what I wanted was interpreted by me as a lack of respect, an attempt to dominate and an attempt to take MY power away.
Then a day came, when I had the perfect opportunity and excuse to excercise my own power. I would take it back!! I would make the grand statement and do the thing that had not yet been done. But no one tells you how difficult it is. That the thing you have not yet tried is often so because it is the least comfortable, most frightening option. I was unprepared for the anxiety and ill equipped to deal with it. As a result, I marched my little self RIGHT BACK into the very same situation. I could not wait, nor trust myself enough to BE the power I so desperately begged for. I piled my power on a platter and handed it to the VERY same person that I had been begging to give it back. I gave it to him EVERY time I only discussed him with my friends and ignored other aspects of my life. I gave it to him EVERY time I KNEW I needed more but settled for less because it was the most COMFORTABLE option in that moment. I gave my power away ALL of the time because I have no skills to manage my own anxiety, to sit in my own discomfort and to accept the fullness of life that includes moments of pain, frustration, despair and worry.
And isn't that the lesson? The man I love is no thief. He wasn't consistenly STEALING my power away all of these years. I have been HANDING it to him. Repeatedly, consistently, handing it to him, and then resenting him for it later. Because, like Sally Kempton and many other's have pointed out to us, when things are worth fighting for, like all of the most important things are, they take a ton of effort. I could never get my power back simply beause I begged, pleaded and demanded. MY power is MINE and no one can take it from me. And because I know enough to know that our intimate relationships are breeding grounds for teaching us to stick up for ourselves, I should have known enough to realize that finding my power would lie in a journey, that, like all journeys, would be difficult and painful at times. That sticking up for myself and my needs, and therefore reclaiming my power would leave me lonely and in pain, broken, perhaps, and dealing with lots and lots of anxiety.
Because what I learned the day I gave him my platter is this: sometimes power isn't worth fighting for and sometimes, it's not a fight at all. Power can be the softest voice in the room, speaking barely over a whisper. Power can come in simply letting go and in choosing to have faith. Sometimes, the most powerful decision of all is the decision to stop fighting, the decision to start believing and the decision to wait on the God who lives in me as me.
