Now, I have a confession to make: I used to love silly self help books. I mean, granted, I read a lot of things, to the point of nerdly compulsivity. But I used to think these books were cute, in an absurd kind of way: "How to land a man! How to keep a man! How to know if your single status is due to some kind of hex!" I found them quotable and funny and mostly harmless. And then I grew up.
Do you prioritize yourself? What do you do that is a form of self-denial? Do you have a belief that you are not good enough? Each and every moment, you contribute to the belief that you are either worth everything or you are worth nothing. And at the end of the day, your mental and emotional bank balance reflects that belief.
It is necessary to my survival as a womxn of color to be compassionate with myself. The world already shoves lies down my throat, erases my history, and tries to rip away me and my family's humanity. It whispers wetback, illiterate, rapists, poor, illegal, no-good, third world and third rate, tries to make shame pool in the pits of my belly. I refuse to taste bitterness and pity.