" The Boy Is Mine"
Using a Heteronormative Pop Anthem as a Tool to Rebuild my Confidence
Hello love.
My hiatus is over. And while I still plan to center my rest and go as slow as I need to, I am happy to be meeting you here again. The rumors are true. I have been listening to “The Boy Is Mine” on repeat. I’ll circle back to explain my obsession later.
It is Monday in Central NC, (my second home) and the rain has come. The trees are signaling their gratitude with leaves opening like outstretched arms and hands with vines reaching wide. Magenta blooms adorn Crape Myrtle trees that line the streets and say hello on grocery trips through the humid, sweet air. Like the trees, and the vegetables in the garden, I am stretching my limbs, firming up my root system and reaching out for what I need to sustain myself. I never imagined that this would be so arduous.
Life has been filled with hard conversations and truths lately. While away from where I usually feel at home, around this time of year- I have been so challenged by what I have learned. I have longed to feel carefree. On the streets in NYC with my nearest and dearest, in my pride uniform of sun kissed skin, rainbow stripes and lots of leather straps. I am planting new seeds. Blooming where I am planted as a friend suggested. Taking stock of what I have access to wherever I am, and the truth is… my grass is green on every side. But it is all about remembering this.
Speaking of remembering…
I have been remembering and fantasizing about a version of myself that was more skilled than I have felt lately at countering shame, setting boundaries, acknowledging my capacity and honoring myself. I also remember an even younger version of me who struggled more than I currently am.
My ability to set or honor my boundaries, capacity and needs has always been tied to how much that I give a damn in that moment about what people are thinking and feeling about me.
For a long time, I have cared way too much yall.
But here is some good news. “The Boy Is Mine” brings back memories of a carefree me. While Ariana is not usually in my playlists ( there are problems), this song has brought up some beautiful feelings for me. It took me a while to put my finger on why but I think I have got it now.
This song brought back memories of who I was when the original version came out. Where I was. What my life felt like, looked like, and sounded like.
I was 7. A babygirl riding in the back of my moms car belting out the words usually in a battle with my cousins and friends. I was always Brandy and we were definitely not singing about a boy. ( I know I wasn’t because everyday is pride amen) We were singing about our own magic and power. These were affirmations for confidence building.
We would emerge from the backseats of our mothers cars, smarties in hand, and butterfly clips forming crowns on our heads, while on the way to our grandmothers gardens. We spilled out of the car to play with newfound audacity and confidence. Mimicking our matriarchs power and authority, as closely as we could without getting into trouble. We needed this. We were young black girls who wanted to do more than just survive this world. We wanted to thrive in it. Be loved. Be free. Take up space.
Today this song reminds me of those dreams for myself and that I really am that bitch!
“That Bitch”: I define this as me becoming the person that I always wanted to be when I grew up.
In a recent therapy session my therapist called me in about a few things. One of our conversations was about my attachment style. There are a handful of relationships in my life that I feel securely attached in. But my default, (to my knowledge) has always been anxious. Recently I was discussing a relationship that I have with someone who is anxiously attached to me and how this terrifies me and makes me want to flee. It is a horrible feeling and I begin prepping to leave before I get left. I do this by distancing and avoiding. I have done these dances in many uh relationship. Pursuing and then distancing.
My therapist told me that I actually have a disorganized attachment style.
While I have gotten used to being the anxious one, when the roles reverse, I am afraid and become avoidant. She told me that when these feelings come up I need to get into the practice of doing nothing.
Getting still. No running away or burning the house down. No pursuing anyone. Just tending to myself and reminding myself that no one gets to discard me, which is the underlying fear in all of this.
I have been coming to terms with all of the worst possible outcomes in my relationships. I want to face my fears with courage, confidence and the same audacity that I had when I was 7 years old, belting out those Brandy and Monica lyrics.
If my worst fears are ever realized…. and everyone abandons me…
If everything burns down and gets washed over…
I will have to remember once again that I am that bitch and build it all, all over again.
The things is that I have proven to myself in every iteration of my life and probably other lives that I am more than capable of this.
I need not waste any more time wondering if I am enough for people.
I don’t have to be the sole energy charging the batteries of everyone’s lives. I do however need to be charging my own so that anyone whom I hold in my heart, is getting what I can wholeheartedly give.
This is a call to action to stop overextending.
To push through your fears and worst case scenarios.
To love and give with pleasure.
The truth is that I am learning how to belong to myself. I wish that I could add the word “again” to the end of that sentence because that would mean that I might have some familiarity to help me find my way but alas this is new for me….
As little girls we sang the lyrics to “The Boy is Mine” not for a boy but for ourselves.
As an adult, I listen to this song and remember that I am beautiful. Worthy of big love. Worthy of being cherished and held on to.
I remember I am that bitch and Ima be that bitch until the end of time.
So if it all washes away…. I will only need to pick a new song.
To be reminded of this again.
Love y’all ,
T <3