.Beyond Thirty
...I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.....
Heap Mama in Training. Hell Yes!
In the Yahoo Club 'Darker Shade of Pale' we coined the phrase 'Heap Mama Goth'. Let me tell you something; if a neighborhood improves in a city, it's not because the mayor or any of the government decided to do anything, it's because the grandmamas all got together and said 'Our grandchildren aren't safe, so what are we going to do about it?' The grandmamas watch all the grandbabies when the parents are at work, cook like there is no tomorrow and have the best recipes in the world for good, wholesome food.
These are the Heap Mamas - the term is a carryover from Africa when the most elderly and wise woman of the village was given a title and respected even above the head men. When the village needed to know where to go if food was running scarce, or how to treat an illness of a child, they went to the Heap Mama, who could remember various remedies and good hunting spots. She knew all the stories, all the history and songs of her people, and was a vast store of knowledge. If she was a large woman - which is what the term is used to denote nowadays - it was good because it meant the village was prosperous. Big Mama was the household head, Heap Mama was the village head. The title hasn't become a joke until recently.
Heap Mamas are a little spooky, a little quirky, and a little severe to a young child, but it isn't until you're older that you realize all the heavy shit that they have lived through; abusive husbands, civil rights movements, working day in and day out just trying to put food on the table and still have their Sunday hat looking like they just bought it. There is a pride in these women, a quiet pride, like they're carrying medals of honor around that you can't see, and it is just amazing.
Older people have always fascinated me, because they've seen so much, and are so hard core for the most part. My great grandmother on my mom's side raised 13 children alone during the Depression. My great grandmother from my father's side had been a slave from the time she was six, and raised almost all of my father's family by herself in a two room shack in the cotton fields and orange groves down south. I don't know how they did it - but then again, I look back on some points of my life and wondered how the hell I got out alive myself. Maybe it's my heritage from both sides of my culture, and that makes me proud as hell.
From Granny Weatherwax to the Oracle in Matrix, or some older woman I see on the street dressed to the hilt but with that look in her eyes that lets you KNOW she's walked through a fire or two, I find myself saying often 'I want to be her when I grow up'. Even when I wish that I had the body that can wear latex, when I wish that I was young again, I keep thinking of what a legend I'm going to be to kids when I get older. Every neighborhood has one - 'Oooooo you wanna watch out, that's Miz Rose's house, she put a curse on you!' 'I know you for a lie, she mades the best cookies on the block!' Hehehe, heap mama goth, with the hem of my leather skirt two inches higher in the back than in the front, and my slippers will have devil horns on them. That's me, baybee!
I've seen more than most; homeless for most of five-six years; I lost track, actually. Well I saw things that most wouldn't believe, and I've seen things that are considered 'acceptable' by society that just isn't. And things that are supposedly important just don't seem that way to me. It's funny because when you say you used to be homeless, people get this utterly panicked look on their faces, like they're sure you're going to go crazy and start stinkin' right in front of their eyes. I know what that look means, people; that look means "Oh shit, then that sort of thing can happen to ANYONE?" Yeah, you think you're comfortable, don't you? Your comfortable world could come crashing down at any moment - how would YOU deal with it?
People sometimes call me arrogant - I call it knowing what's really important, and honey, television ain't it.
Well, Heap Mamas know allll about it. Because there was never anyone to help them when they needed it. If there was a change that needed to happen, they made it. They took crap from the police, from welfare, Social Security, from the gangs and their own people, but they did it. No-one thanked them - it's just that it HAD to be done. They've got that look on their faces, each and every one, that scares the shit out of you because that could be YOU thirty years down the road; you'll be fighting the fight, tired as hell, arthritis kicking your ass in the morning, but you have to keep going. Because no-one else will.
The Heap Mama culture is dying nowadays. The term Heap Mama has taken a negative, Western connotation and a lot of older black women object to it, because they think Heap Mama means old, fat, no education, no class. They've forgotten the power, the wisdom, the courage of the Heap Mama. The African American culture is now incredibly fragmented into the "haves" pretty much ignoring the "have nots". The people have been divided, and the "haves" turn their backs upon their poorer relations. Divide and conquer has worked. I can't do that, myself. I won't do that.
I thought that turning 30 would mean that I would have to "slow down". If anything I've got more than I did at 25. I have a husband, I have more style. No risqué clothing, true, and fibromyalgia is taking a turn for the worse - I've put on quite a bit of weight, but my face still looks like a 24 year old, but I love my velvet. I have that "older woman" thing goin' on now. The elderly Bette Davis was still Betty Davis, Eartha Kitt is still and always will be The Cat Woman (long may she reign); Lena Horne is still Lena Horne, and Greta Garbo was always Greta Garbo, with her dark clothing and her cigarette holder.
Older women are either encouraged to 'tone down' because you aren't attractive over 30 (?!) or to try and dress as if they were 15 due to Lolita training. I am more than aware of the strictures upon our society that one must "grow up and earn the wages like everyone else". Conformity is half slave-training, and half jealousy. No-one wants anyone else to have a bit more unless everyone can have it. Why can't I wear my boots at work - who says that 'growing up' means I can't be freaky? Do my boots say anything about whether I can do my job or not? Does my hair color mean that I am not responsible? And this is not just an attitude held by the older crowd. More than once have I received the oh so trite raised eyebrow look by some teenie bop with raspberry hair (I had my hair that color at her age, too) as if I don't belong. According to societal training I should be at home, reading Martha Stewart and waiting for the private investigator I hired to tail my husband to call.
This actually ties into the whole Goth rant of my page. I don't care how old you are, or how young you are, or how dark or light you are, as long as you realize that EVERYONE HAS A RIGHT TO DRESS ACT OR LIVE IN THE CULTURE AS MUCH AS YOU DO. That's it! It should be so simple, but society is never simple. The conformist mind still creeps in. I was embarrassed to read a Goth Slam site that stated "They try to hard to be different that they all look alike". Ask yourself if they were wrong. To be different is to be different, not to make up some sort of code rules. This isn't a frat house, my children.
So, if you see that black woman with lines her face, but eyes as clear as a girl of 19, laughing in a loud coarse voice with her ciggie holder and a great velvet cloak and headwrap, not giving a damn for your looks of horror, don't look so annoyed. It's only me. Come, look into my eyes if you dare, and see my life shine through. This will be you, someday soon. Enjoy youth, but do not mourn it.
When I am old, I will wear red velvet....