Facebook, Lots Is On My Mind

When Emmanuel and I met and married our pictures were strewn all over Facebook. I felt like a celebrity when I would visit Kikam and of course, he continued his press coverage while we were in whatever country we would visit. It was nauseating after a while because my smiles were not sincere and the flame had fizzled. Initially I was excited, but as my realization and tiredness with the reality of what he was in the relationship for started to set in I hated that he was tagging me in this false world he was trying to create to whomever would listen or look at our photos at the U.S. Embassy. Even at my darkest hour, I wasn’t going to be reporting/paying/helping him to get to the U.S.A. so it was futile.

Many ladies won’t admit it, but once you realize it and it settles in to your bones and you let it marinate you no longer want to post anything about your life on Facebook. And after it’s over, after he has abandoned you the day or month after he receives his green card or whatever your set up may be, you go back on your Facebook profile and delete or hide all of the photos from the faux times together. You’re a Facebook lurker and a Google fanatic trying to understand what happened. It’s not you, it was him.

Everyone keeps saying I am strong, but this blog is really for the ladies not speaking up – to encourage them to speak up. You don’t have to speak or type to me, but speak to someone. If you don’t you won’t heal and the scab will fester in to the next relationship – even the one that you should have with yourself. Trust, there will be another relationship – your life is not over. But that relationship that you have with yourself, well, wherever you go you will be there. You cannot do self love self-love as a carbon copy of consumption via books and social media. There has to be action on your own behalf.

One month after Emmanuel sent me a text message that he did not want the marriage anymore I woke up one day and was done. It was a hard month to receive the text message from him and he knew that my mom had just died the week before. It felt like the walls were caving in. But after a month of negotiating and pleading with him to work on our “marriage” I was truly done. I woke up and wasn’t hurting from his abandonment. I was having truthful conversations with myself the whole time: if I can carry a grown man and children, then guess what I can do without his dead weight? I was also reflecting on my wrongdoings and the warning signs that I may have missed. He had even recorded our arguments to share with his family so that he could further prove and show how unfit of a wife I was. Highly laughable. He failed to share with them why I would yell or pick up a knife in response to being told I was going to be beatened. But they listened as they have been gaslighted by him his whole life, so they know better, but choose to ignore it perhaps.

As you can tell from this blog, I am like this most of the time. Imagine being so forward with yourself and what you can uncover.  It did not matter which Facebook group I got kicked out of because of my truth that I wanted to share. It did not matter that a business relationship went sour. This is all about me right now and fuck all the rest. If that so called friend doesn’t know how to be there for you, yep, fuck them too. You can do the same unapologetically.

It does ladies no good to go back and forth comparing my notes against his with his supposed culture – if he’s lying already, guess what he will continue to do? It does you, the hating lady, no good to come up offended because I’m pointing out something that you’ve been thinking anyway and now my words are starting to really click with you. Denial and prayer will not make it go away. It does you no good, delusional one, who wants only floating clouds of romance to click Like on because it’s going to give you negative vibes in your marriage. If that man is for you and in the marriage he will be there regardless as to your moment of doubt and you 2 will move on…if he’s for real. And even the African men who have come forward to open your flap and type the horrible nature of “black American women“, you only report from 1 side despite all that money that was spent on you to have another experience in another country – stop the misogyny and the sociopathic behavior.

Happy new year, new you and all. This is not a drill. Today will not be repeated. L’eggo, 2016. Many more countries to explore…and miles to go before I sleep, miles to go before I sleep… (The book, Wanted: Green Card is available on Amazon and ready for you to read it – nothing that you read here on this blog is in the book. Thank you in advance for your support.)

You Won. You’re You!

During a bad relationship you simply are not yourself. There were times I would go out to network with other entrepreneurs or simply wake up in the morning and know that something was off. It was so subtle that I could never place it.

Whenever I feel this way I assess if I have done something wrong or if I should correct something, but during this time I could never place exactly what I’d done wrong. My household was simply…off.

At the time, little did I know that my husband was saying things to my daughter that would make her wonder if she was the cause of the house being off-centered. It would be long after Emmanuel abandoned me that I would learn this, which is probably for the better. Essentially, making statements to a child about how she should not have the opportunity to travel and his dead wife should be in her place is beyond disturbing. Again, probably for the better that I learned of this later.

Yes, in learning this the household should have never been functioning – which is exactly what was happening. Since I was the breadwinner of the relationship I had to always be on. When I would grab feverishly for a moment to myself I was always met with statements such as “…in my culture the women do not…”. Fill in the blank with things such as: go out or dance like that, because I love salsa dancing. Further, the things that women in Ghanaian culture did were: cook everyday, have sex on demand, and were there to cut the husband’s toenails – especially the hard one that was hard to clip; she’s supposed to make it soft by soaking his feet.

In a balanced relationship if this is what the husband and wife decide they want to do, then kudos to you 2. In my relationship with my ex he wanted these things on demand despite the fact that he did not bring any money to the table and always seemed to be waiting for me each week to escort me to the ATM.  That felt like oppression to me.

I was often compared to Ghanaian women and started to wonder why these women put up with this shit. With the little activity that was expected of a Ghanaian woman I was beginning to feel like I should be in my 80s with a bad back and not able to walk, not in my 30s and ready to be the best Latoya I could be. Certainly not the Latoya whom he met who loved to travel and meet people and yap it up with friend girls over a weekly brunch.

I was expected to suppress my American side and take on being a full Ghanaian woman. How do I do that? I’m not from there directly. We’re at least 400 years removed if my ancestors are indeed from Ghana, so I was in very unfamiliar territory. As the demands became more stupid, for lack of a better word, I started to think: Umma need you to go and marry that Ghanaian woman that you’re speaking of and why hook up with an African American in order to try to convert them to being a Ghanaian?

It wasn’t enough for me to simply be Latoya. I had to be someone else…someone Ghanaian. It made me wonder and question aloud that if Ghanain is what he wanted, why didn’t he simply marry that person instead of me.

I’m still getting to know Latoya, so me trying to be another person simply won’t work. Latoya is still evolving and making mistakes so trying to pretend to be someone else will only slow down the progress. It will also water down the Latoya that I am. Imagine a Latoya without the ability to express herself as I have in this blog. I’m matter of fact and forcibly to the point most of the time. I don’t even wear out on being that way, so I can’t imagine being a demure Latoya. My friends do not use the word demure and my name in the same sentence. Or worse, a Latoya that sits waiting to clip her husband’s toesnails after she has worked all day and he has listened to music on the internet all day or chatted with women about his love for them.

With this realization there must be a revelation. There is no race nor any comparison. I won. I’m me!

Ladies, if you feel that you are so caught up in his culture that you forget that you too have a culture of your own, reshift and rebalance. Learn from my mistakes and buy and read the book, Wanted: Green Card.