My seventh-grade history teacher, Ms. Graham, called me a wild woman.
My mama was outraged. And because she was, so was I. Honestly, I didn’t see the big deal with the name-calling. The reason the altercation escalated to phoning home was because of the argument that ensued between a subordinate and a superior. The name-calling, to me, was a non-issue.
My mama told me to never let anyone call me out of my name. I agreed then and I agree now. As for my teacher, she received way more colorful language than that.
But, I was a wild woman. I am a wild woman. Then and now.
You see, the reason my teacher felt comfortable calling me that was because I, in one way or another, disagreed with what she was teaching us. So fervently, so coherently, that she, an adult, had no other stops to pull than to berate a child in front of a classroom of other children.
It wasn’t the first time I’d be named that or something similar, though it was the earliest memory I have of such behavior. It won’t be the last time either.
I wasn’t a “bad” child, but rather a talkative and inquisitive one. I was raised that way. “If you don’t understand, ask questions” my daddy would say over and over again.
Being a southern Black girl while being raised in the “speak when spoken to", or “stay in a child’s place” era is difficult. It isn’t right or wrong, it’s cultural. If I’m encouraged to be free and loud and open at home, how do I then suppress those characteristics out in the world? How am I to know, as a child, when the right time is the right time? My parents didn’t make that distinction for me because, to them, that distinction doesn’t exist. The world did that, and I was punished for it.
Recently, my husband said that I’m combative. I don’t remember the context of the conversation, but I can see it. I probably am.
I speak up when I don’t understand. I stand up for myself when my peace or natural way of being has been disturbed. I don’t allow others to make decisions for me. I ponder people and motives for long periods of time, and I question everything. And when I’m unsure, I don’t move.
I am this way, not only because I was taught to be this way, but also because somewhere along the way I strayed from it. I went silent. When you’re constantly “othered” for free thinking or for simply requesting clarification—especially as a child—you learn to shut that part of you down entirely.
If audacity makes me wild-
If inquiry makes me wild-
If going against the grain makes me wild-
I’ll be that.
Be your authentic self no matter how wild or combative that may be. The people will love you