The Hell & The High Water
“I put you in position. I didn’t put you in power.”
That’s gotta be one of the coldest lines ever delivered. Shout out to Shonda Rhimes and Joe Morton.
Real G(ladiator)s know that Papa Pope served that read up cold to Fitz, the sitting president of the United States. Told him he was a figurehead. He had all of the adornments of his title and none of the power. His job was to dance. He didn’t get to pick the song.
It’s so cold because it’s so real.
How many times do we show up as imposters?
We hustle for that seat at the table, pay our dues, but, secretly, question if it’s enough.
We think we belong here, but, inwardly, wondering if we’re just here based off of someone else’s good graces?
Our name says “Mrs” but, inside, feeling more like a sidechick.
You’ve got the title but none of the respect that comes with it.
If that won’t humble your mean ass, I don’t know what will.
They say, “everybody’s bad until bad shows up.”
What if “bad” is you and you just found out?
Like, if someone said “Come, Hell or high water,” you looked up and answered, “Shiiiiit, I just got here. What y’all need?”
Would you stop apologizing for taking up space? For demanding a voice? For not agreeing?
If you, not only knew, but expected what was due you, would you still second-guess your right to claim it?
Because here’s what I’m coming to understand—nobody else will.
They know what’s yours. They’re just seeing if you do. When they act like they dgaf, a lot of the time, it’s because you didn’t give one first. And, maybe, it’s because you didn’t think you had a f*ck to give.
But chickens come home to roost, and so do debts, f*cks, and ain’t sh*t men.
And you end up paying for every f*ck you DIDN’T give. Ain’t that some sh*t?
File bankruptcy on their ass, sis. Reset your credit line of f*cks and pass them out generously when it comes to what you deserve.
If one can chase a thousand, two ten thousand...Ok. Ok. The scripture wasn’t referring to f*cks, but the message still applies.
F*ck up some commas, sis.
