the heaviness of hate could weigh more than gold
yet, the lift can be endured if the foundation is solid.
experience after experience,
a system is birthed.
structured through the romantic intake of male dosages
laced with a perverted dogma.
the substance metabolizes as my own belittlement as woman
and vicariously entangles my learned wisdom and parental wounds.
the poundage tones me once the drug is no more.
the roots of antipathy proliferated through my foundation,
filling the weak spots where addiction claimed me,
and pushed me to the brink of overdose.
my underpinning seems revitalized,
reengineered for conscious rehab
where the heaviness of hate
are the new walls of recovery.
welcome to my poem entitled, “odium.”
by definition, the term means “general or widespread hatred or disgust directed toward someone as a result of their actions.”
why have i presented you with a poem that reeks of distaste and loathing?
well, let me explain.
i’ve had a number of experiences that have shown me the true nature of the opposite sex. the male is such an interesting yet obtuse species. my experience with men has not been one of excellence—specifically black men, as that’s all i have dated or had relations with.
instead, my experiences have led me to question the intent and worthiness—for lack of a better word—of the men i am supposed to give “grace” to or fall in “love” with.
people (men) may see my words as bitterness or some other sentiment devoid of empathy.
however, can we be real?
most women, regardless of race, have universal experiences with men. and i’d argue it’s often the men who claim to be “good guys” who show us exactly who they are. yet, we are blamed for “not choosing the right ones,” or we must have done something to “make” him leave or cheat.
folks love to say women don’t like to be held accountable, yet we are bullied into doing so every day.
anywhos, before i am derailed into another conversation about men’s lack of [insert whatever human emotion or concept], let’s talk about me and what i’ve been through.
so, “odium.”
this piece is about my, plus a large number of women’s, experiences in today’s society. we are tasked with being everyone’s caretaker, nurturer, or someone to fill a void.
all the while, we are also supposed to repress and be small while, naturally, we are built to do otherwise.
we are calypso. figuratively and literally.
still, men want to bind us. control us. make us small. and in my dealings with black men, this often manifests as a “break-a-bitch-down” mentality or the “you’re too much/crazy” act.
granted, i have had struggles with my mental health. however, i’ve always been upfront and honest with men who claim to want to support me and “love” me despite it all.
i didn’t know they were blockish in those moments for multiple reasons:
- i was naive.
- i wasn’t equipped with advice or parental guidance when it came to romance and dating.
- i wasn’t in therapy consistently to find better ways to cope.
- i’m neurodivergent and didn’t know until this year.
- probably most important: men like to fake who they are until shit hits the fan or they feel like they “got you.”
i think about how, as women, we are fed lies about men like medicine. the world prescribes us pills labeled men, love, and romance. and what do we get in return?
an addiction to patriarchy. a loss of autonomy and agency. labels that read inferior and submissive.
this addiction creates a heaviness that all women feel—especially black women. a heaviness we must function under every day—i function in every day.
and grace is rarely given to us. we are expected to listen to men as “leaders,” but where has that gotten us?
it has landed us in a place where men think we are supposed to play both roles while maintaining a standard that equates independence to masculinity, creating a cycle that hurts more than it helps.
we can never be enough, yet we’re criticized when we surpass men in accomplishments, pay, or intelligence.
hence, men want to teach us lessons, put us in our place, or break us down.
read my brief personal anecdote:
a brief personal anecdote: my ex, whom i left at the end of 2023, did two things. before we broke up and started living separately, he wasn’t treating me well—or fairly—because of my mental health and his own issues.
first, he tried to guilt-trip me because i was in a higher position than him—career-wise, education-wise, in general. second, he technically cheated, but what really got me was how he tried to make me feel a way about it. he chose to control a younger, less-educated girl and acted like that was some kind of accomplishment. (i have no shame in saying this because, to be honest, it’s true—and it proves my point.)
his exact words? “i’m a man now.”
why? because he was supporting the then-jobless girl he cheated with in exchange for submission and the whole pick-me package. (i’m slightly biased, sure—but based on what i know, this is exactly what happened. and to be clear, i don’t have anything against shawty… other than the fact that she should’ve been smarter.)
but now, i’m somewhat reinvigorated.
this poem talks about that “addiction,” yet there’s light. we can recover in more ways than one as women.
i’ve chosen to take the hate from my experiences and pour it into my empowerment. i’m reworking it so i can heal and understand where i am as a woman.
in this new light, i’ve gained an interest in feminism, womanism, and misandry.
right now in my journey, i do hate men. however, i see these beliefs on a spectrum. i don’t fully identify as one thing or the other. still, all these topics intersect in my experience.
(i will do a separate post on my research and findings soon!)
“odium” is a poem of clever rage—a vivid, raw description of my shortcomings yet a reimagining of choosing myself as a foundation where this addiction is eradicated.
i really hope that “odium” invokes some sort of emotion in you. writing is how i cope with the ups and downs of my journey, and i wanted to share that today.
this piece may become part of a collection of works i’m building, highlighting self-acceptance and my complexities.
we’ll see.
-signed, g tha e.
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