A Rebel without a pause…

It was about 9:30pm, I was on my way to the supermarket to do the week’s shopping. Weekend before school, so it was an intense list. Baseball cap sitting low on my head, night air flowing through the slightly open windows, cranking a little Bob Marley Burnin’ and Lootin’ in the CD player, Prius in full hybrid cruise mode. I was a rebel, a rebel that just doesn’t stop. Why the hell was I on my way to the supermarket at 9:30 at night? Well, it had been a pretty full day, actually got some by myself Mommy time earlier. Was diggin’ in the crates of the children’s draws, pulling all the damaged, too small, have no idea why it hadn’t been gotten rid of – clothingout of circulation and putting in the new clothes and the ones freshly washed.  Cleaning out refrigerators, keeping the children occupied and not fighting with each other on the eve of the new school year. And there I was at a light acting like going grocery shopping at almost 10pm was normal.

This morning I woke up in a curfew;
O God, I was a prisoner, too – yeah!
Could not recognize the faces standing over me;
They were all dressed in uniforms of brutality. Eh!

How many rivers do we have to cross,
Before we can talk to the boss? Eh!
All that we got, it seems we have lost;
We must have really paid the cost.

Then, I did the shopping at what seemed like the middle of the night, surrounded by newly returning college students shopping for those last minute party items and discussing how many people were throwing up at last nights gatherings. I got home, the children had all been asleep for a long while, hubby and I put all the groceries away (as I took the initiative to clean out the fridge – at 11pm), and then I began to wash the dishes, sweep the floor, wipe down the dining room table and all the placemats…and it dawned on me…why is this a common scene? Why is it usually when my entire household is asleep that I am cleaning or straightening for the next day. Where did my hardcore revolutionary gangst(h)er self go? (now this is not to mixed up to the selfish, all about me and having a good time self go, she clearly went down a different road and I haven’t seen her in some years). However, this was becoming a really weird coincidence, it keeps happening!

  So, where are my Black Feminist credentials now? Where are all my rebel techniques of not be an indentured servant in my own kitchen (and my house)? Its really about control, control of seeing things done my way, which translates to no one else can really do it, right? Well, this is not being revolutionary in the least! The rebel I have often considered myself would not be carrying on like this. Its more along the lines of insanity and pure (control-freak) stupidity. I don’t ask for help because no one understands. Well, I really have got to get over this mess. Its part of the reason I am exhausted and got up at 4am to work on a blog entry, because this dilemma is in my head and seeping into my soul. Ah, I scream in frustration and disappointment! What happened and when? I cannot maintain this pace when I am back at work full time, right? Or will I try?

Well, it is time to call it a day (or night or morning) and try to get back to sleep and then wake up and do some more laundry, scrub some toilets and wash some windows and mirrors, because that is what I do in my spare time (whatever spare time is). My thoughts of how my research and my work would be truly revolutionary, the rebellious part of my identity I clung to throughout my college and graduate school days seem so far off in distance. But, this is the stage of my life right now and aside from the frustrations that creeps its ugly head at least I can look forward to the fact that I am on parental leave until the beginning of 2012 and children eventually go back to school and they begin to grow up and things begin to balance out and then there are brief pauses here and there. In these pauses Mommies/wives can read books, catch up on that favorite TV show, start working on that next article…and then maybe that rebel within, that revolutionary identity will reclaim my heart and soul and shift my focus from the kitchen back to those academic halls and coffee houses where I do my best work…

blog out….


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