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    Labeling Saga
    Labeling Saga
    Labeling Saga
    Ebook178 pages1 hour

    Labeling Saga

    By Marvina Sims

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    This book is an attempt to show how labels can build up or tear down. Some labels

    can be so subtle it's diffi cult to even know its true purpose. The government and

    corporate America want us to believe labels are needed for statistical purposes.

    Tradition wants us to keep believing labels are pertinent because that's how it's

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMarvina Sims Books
    Release dateFeb 25, 2022
    ISBN9781957009421
    Labeling Saga
    Author

    Marvina Sims

    Marvina Sims is passionate about reading, writing and researching. As a result, her college majors were English and Library, and a minor in creative writing. During her service at the U.S. Railroad Retirement Board as an Equal Opportunity Specialist her position as editor and publisher of the quarterly newsletter, OEO Times, is what catapulted her into pursuing a career in writing. Her personal experiences as a victim of abuse, along with her desire to help other victims, and perpetrators in abusive situations is what inspired her to become a certified Domestic Violence Advocate and an intervention specialist in the Partner Abuse Intervention Program (PAIP). Marvina has also acted in various live stage performances, movies, and web series. In her youth, she was shy yet empathetic. Finding it challenging to verbally express her deeply felt emotions she journaled. Today, though no longer shy, her empathy is amplified. As a result, impactful events and emotionally touching moments are expressed via poetry, prose, short stories, and creative non-fiction. In 2013, Marvina began an organization called WEWIN-Women Empower Women in Need (www.wewinqueendom.org, http://wewin4all.weebly.com, https://www.facebook.com/2LOVEWEWIN/). Her goal is to help empower women and many others who are less fortunate and in need. Prior to Marvina's birth, her mom, Annie Mae Jones (Ann), attempted homicide and suicide on several occasions. A struggling single mom with three kids, and living within one of Chicago's poorest and dangerous neighborhoods added more stress to Ann's already inundated life. After Marvina is born her mom notices something is physically wrong, but doctors do not detect any problems. Years later Marvina is diagnosed with a debilitating bone disease, which causes her to endure countless fractures, numerous surgeries, and months of hospital stays. But Marvina still manages to get caught up in what many others are doing-drugs, drinking, gambling and indulging in sexual activities prior to legal age. Despite Marvina's tumultuous life, her biggest fear was remaining entangled in the vicious cycle of generational poverty, crime, and substance addiction. For this reason, Marvina was determined to do what was necessary to avoid becoming a statistic. Brittle Never Broken is definitely not your typical rags to riches memoir. In this case "riches" refers to Marvina's ability to remain self-motivated despite relentless afflictions, turmoil, and heartaches. Marvin's bones may be brittle but nothing or no one can break her awesome spirit!

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      Book preview

      Labeling Saga - Marvina Sims

      Introduction

      When any of our senses first come into the realization of an object or entity, we attach a name to it. When we cannot name something, we look for descriptions. It’s obvious that labels are required to identify everything in life. It’s only when they are used to belittle another in hopes of reducing them to being less than someone or something else that these types of hurtful stigmas can mentally and emotionally cause damage to a person, sometimes lasting an entire lifetime. It’s unfortunate that most people believe the terrible labels that have been bestowed upon them. Some, so much so that it causes them to have suicidal tendency, while too many have succeeded. If only more people could recognize sooner that those who use belittling labels only do it to make themselves feel better, which is why it is necessary for people to know that someone else’s negative opinion should never matter—whether they are blood related or not.

      In high school there was a guy who admired me and his way of expressing it was, I just wish I could put you in my pocket and take you home with me. He went on to explain that I was so adorable to him that I resembled a Black barbie. That sort of adoration makes me feel warm inside just thinking about it today. And in case you’re wondering no I never went home with him.

      There was another time when I was in my early twenty’s, walking around at a carnival, when I was still able to use crutches as a primary mobility aid, when a passerby yelled out, What is that? referencing me as if I was a monster or any non-human creature. My best friend, at the time, looked startled but then again, I got the impression that she was grinning and even enjoyed this stranger’s banter of me. I acted as if I hadn’t heard a thing but as I think of it today, I can still feel the sting.

      Fast forward to a more recent occurrence, I was at the park with my daughter and granddaughter when a girl, who looked about twelve years old, walked up to me and said, You are so pretty to me. I was pleasantly stunned because I was not expecting such a kind compliment from anyone, let alone a child. I still smile inside whenever it crosses my mind.

      These scenarios are just a few of many where someone has outright labeled me. Regardless of when it occurred or what was said how I perceived each of them was on me. As a matter of fact, it is only my perception that really matters because that is what makes anything appear either better or worse, good or bad, horrible or great.

      For instance, I will be a Black, female with a disability until my last breath on this earth. You who are reading this either felt a connection because of those labels. Or you were repulsed. Either way your judgement does not make my position good or bad. I am still who I am regardless of your sentiments. Remember, Les Brown said it best, Someone’s opinion of you does not have to become your reality.

      God allows chaosgiving us the option

      to wipe our canvas clean

      It resembles a prison

      A picture containing tree, plant, flower, outdoor Description automatically generated

      an uncomfortable space

      the only one

      in a situation

      becoming like new

      to birth a new being!

      What parts of your life might God be molding for an improved image?

      In Cahoots

      It’s so endearing

      to not be left alone for nine months

      straddled cozily in a womb

      pulsing organs lull me

      like an endless sound machine

      suddenly

      I’m out

      unattached

      screaming

      shaking

      in cool temperature

      Mama’s still here

      waiting

      with me

      for me

      even on me

      my entire life

      Abruptly she vanishes

      no one replaces her

      not even remotely

      It feels like

      everyone is intentionally treating me

      in no way near how mama would

      I then begin doing it to myself

      Distancing from all that feels like

      love

      loving

      or a replica among it

      would fictional love do

      I was given that on a silver platter

      but rejected that too

      NO LOVE is preferred

      yeah

      I’m much more comfortable with that

      besides

      everything I’ve ever acquainted with love

      eventually fades

      as if in cahoots with a vicious hurricane

      can’t stop it

      can’t catch it

      can’t contain it

      undeliverable

      tried ordering it

      couldn’t quite make out the menu

      it’s all so foreign

      I end up preordering something

      it makes me sick to the stomach

      it looked prettier in the picture

      I know what not to reorder next time

      only next time it’s a pseudo

      funneling another inappropriate ingesting

      I’m sick all over again

      sick of hoping

      I’m sick all over again

      sick of wondering

      sick of even trying anymore

      I’ll drink instead

      it arrives

      but that’s no drink

      It’s salty tears

      masked as a decorative salty rim

      around a margarita glass

      my mentioning this

      gives this impression

      that I care

      I don’t

      I keep drinking

      covering up

      though failing to ebb the flow

      no one will notice

      I hope

      The Black Father

      The Black Father

      was/is absent from too many homes

      He did what was needed/necessary for him

      Which actually turned out best for all

      If we as adult children change the perspectives/narratives

      in our hearts/minds

      we may be able to drop the bitterness/blame/shame/anger/hurt

      Drying up the tears is easier said than done

      Cease the self-sabotage and go hard on hopes

      where dreams no longer need deferring

      What someone else did or did not do

      Does not have to linger/end with you

      Think about the help you need and get it

      If it was in that bottle/drug/sex/food/gambling you’d be healed/over it by now

      Ya think

      It’s in what you’re telling yourself/believing

      Again modify the opinions/feelings

      Which would allow you a happily ever after

      Quite often what you thought was the end

      Can now be a new beginning

      Even with the absenteeism

      Of those we thought we needed!

      Mom’s Suicide Letter - March 1991

      I held on to this letter because I knew there would someday come a time when I would want to use it for something. I didn’t even consider myself a writer then, but I was certainly a collector. I’m pretty sure my subconscious already knew. Thankfully, Mom failed in yet another one of her suicide attempts.

      I’m still in awe today because this letter is proof that loving moms never cease being loving moms even way after their children become adults and capable of caring for themselves. I had a chance to read this to a friend who said to me, It’s fascinating that the things we never think twice about someone who anticipates dying does. I took this to mean that my mom remembered to tell us where the warranty papers were in case the appliances malfunctioned, whereas those of us living tend to take functioning appliances for granted, and that would be the least of our concerns until they break down.

      Mom passed away May 24, 2016—twenty-five years later—but not due to her own harm. She was residing in a nursing home because she was too feeble to care for herself. I am not at liberty to discuss the details of her death, due to a settlement agreement, but I believe I am allowed to say she supposedly/allegedly suffered a fall from her wheelchair, which

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