I Am Not Your Mammy

I have been back home for about a week now and per usual, the month of December has been a deeply reflective one. As many other twenty-somethings, a large part of my identity has been consumed by finding a partner. The more that I reflect on the way that I show up in my romantic relationships and the romantic goals I have, I have come to realize that I have played a largely maternal role to many of my partners, particularly my male-identifying ones. Podcasts, a disturbingly intelligent tiktok algorithm and conversations with my friends have been really helpful in allowing me to analyze these unhealthy dynamics and break out of them. Dear future partner, first and foremost, I am not your mammy.

I am a big fan of psychoanalysis so allow me to connect this back to my childhood and the romantic dynamics that I saw between my parents growing up. Gender roles have a serious chokehold on the Haitian community. Growing up, I had never seen my dad so much as clean a bathroom. That was a woman’s job (or in our case, a woman and

a girl’s job). My mom did everything in the household while holding down two jobs. I would see her come home exhausted, start cooking dinner while cleaning along the way. Where was my dad? Watching the game, naturally. That was a man’s job…doing absolutely nothing. Sure he would check in on the car if the tire was flat and do some plumbing work from time to time, but it was nothing compared to my mom’s daily household obligations. Not to mention taking care of everything when it came to my brother and I. I grew up watching my mom take care of myself, my brother and her husband as if she had three children. Somewhere along the way, I equated taking care of my partner in this way to a prerequisite for love and partnership. All along, this dynamic did not breed love between my parents, it bred resentment. Which brings us back to present day Destiny and certain habits she will hopefully be leaving behind in 2022.

“I hate when you smoke, it’s bad for your health.” “You should really go to therapy, I promise it’ll be helpful in understanding your attachment style.” “You still haven’t been to the store? Don’t worry, I'll go for you.” These are just a few examples of the maternal role I have played in my past relationships. The coddling, the attempts at readjusting their life for the better and the adding onto my plate in order to relieve them of taking care of theirselves all came at the expense of my own needs. I thought that showing them how much they needed me is what it took to be chosen by a man. It didn’t matter if they were clearly not pulling their weight, I could pull it for the both of us! What am I? A mule?? I got so caught up in taking care of my partner that I didn’t for one second realize that it was entirely unreciprocated. That's really what I want to emphasize, the lack of reciprocation. I love to take care of people that I love, but I don't love having my need to be taken care of neglected or ignored all together. I thought that doing all of this is what was required of me as a partner, but all I felt after the relationship ended was drained and used. It was that nasty feeling of “I’ve built him up to be a better partner for the next girl.” Whereas I was the better partner all along. I reject that role now. I don’t want a child. I want a partner.

As Black women, we have historically had three forms of representation: the jezebel, the mammy and the sapphire. Let me explain (for those of you who don’t already know about these messed up racialized stereotypes). The jezebel is over-sexualized, ravenous, with an insatiable appetite for all that is lewd. She is promiscuous, booty-licious and ready to steal your man by any means necessary. Think Sarah Baartman who was paraded around England as the freak show Black woman with the abundant derriere. Or the rhetoric currently used to describe Megan Thee Stallion. The mammy is the exact opposite. She is devoid of sexuality and will nurse your white children simply because she’s good at it and it puts a smile on her Black and inherently motherly face. She is always willing to sacrifice her needs for the “greater good.” On the other hand, the sapphire is the very essence of the “angry Black woman” trope. She is unruly, untamable and unladylike. What all of these stereotypes have in common is that they rob Black women of their innate femininity and womanhood. They render her undeserving of love unless she’s neglecting herself in the process. They aren’t just stereotypes. They affect the way that present day Black women are able to show up in their romantic relationships and the roles that they are expected to play. Clearly I have to work on letting go of my “mammy” role but all of these stereotypes affect Black women in one way or another. Black women (particularly darker skinned Black women) are constantly battling the jezebel and sapphire stereotypes that work to dehumanize, sexualize and fetishize us. We are never working on a completely blank slate. These stereotypes precede us and unfortunately are impossible not to internalize to a certain degree.

Black women deserve true partnership in their romantic relationships. We deserve to be treated like princesses and to have relationships full of love, not struggle. Recently I came to see one of my favorite “Black love” films, Love and Basketball, as actually one of “Black struggle.” My girl Monica was always too good for Quincy but the Black community, particularly Black women, couldn’t help but to cry tears of joy when they lived “happily ever after” at the end. She never had her needs met. She was forced to negotiate aspects of herself in order to be chosen by him. How is that a success story? I want and deserve the romance. I want to have the household chores split evenly between myself and my partner. I want someone who is already whole who can compliment, not take away from the work that I have been doing on myself. I want someone who is already in therapy, who already knows how to take care of themselves and wants a partner, not a mother. I know these all sound like reasonable expectations to have of a partner, but I promise you that many consider me to be overly idealistic in wanting this. Simply put, I’d rather be idealistic and single than stressed out and in a relationship.

Recently, I have been thinking more about prioritizing a similar mindset, goals and lifestyle to needing to be with a Black man, but that’s for another article. I hope that you enjoyed this little snapshot into what’s been floating around in my head recently. Also I really want to recommend the podcast “Lovers and Friends with Shan Boodram” if you want to dive into these topics a bit more. It has been essential in giving me some more language around intimacy and helping me realize that I want better for myself in my future romantic relationships. Reminder that you are loved more than you know and that there is no shame in not being boo’d up. Protect your peace above all <3

Image source: Gone with the Wind featuring Hattie McDaniel (right) and Vivien Leigh (left)