I drafted this entry three nights ago and didn't know what to write...didn't know how to write it. I couldn't figure out how to put it to pixel and release it to you. All of you.
Nonetheless, here it is.
As you previously read, I had some inhibitions about returning to Detroit for the holidays. I had a great time in spite of my worry, though. I hung out with good friends and stayed close to my family. I went out on a few dates and made some new memories. I caught up with mentors and future colleagues and got guidance on what I needed to do to accelerate my exit from Amherst (a super plus). In short and "on paper", all went well.
But still, my unreadiness to return to that space shone through. I still felt closed in, especially at my former home. Despite all of the accolades and pep talks, something about my academic work and the prospect of actually completing this doctorate and working full time instead of being a student worried me. The moments with my friends were bittersweet: great for the time being but also limited to the brief time I'd be around (a month seems long until you live it). The dates and hanging with interested men was fun, temporarily. I realized my affections--like, love and lust--are not fleeting. I do so much better with more than compliments, physical contact or dinners and outings. The superficial, freer side of dating is fun but not for me. I deserve more than this. Knowing that these men were more than willing to take me up on the surface end of things was no reassurance that anything kindled in this one-month holiday stint would yield (or be worth) any longevity.
I returned to Amherst quite a mess, to say the very least. The great times I hoped to recount over coffee or cabernet became burdensome. My lack of confidence in my work became a road block to both my creativity and productivity. My weird love life became a silent obsession; I just wondered why I couldn't find what I needed from a selection of very different men and, conversely, wondered why I cared so much. The lack of space in my parents' home was seemed more symbolic of my need to not solely "do Amherst" but to live here until the next step. My tried and true friends, again, were hundreds of miles away.
That was a very lonely week.
I think my friends here in Amherst may have picked up on my mood a bit but they have only known me to be seldom angry, sad or disillusioned. This usually doesn't last long, and I'm generally a quite easy-going, frank woman. This time, however, it was perpetual and getting worse the longer I sat with it. Those who know me knew how to break me out of the funk (for which I'm grateful...you know who you are). People who don't know me took it personally. Then, I didn't care; now, I try not to. Essentially, my tip then was "fuck your problems; I have my own." I don't think I left any mystery to that fact. I tried not to talk about these things in depth, though. The way they swirled in my head made them seem like too much to recount. I opted for silence.
When I realized that my silence was a problem, I knew that I needed to rebuild myself somewhere other than where I was and where I had been. I spoke to one of my best girl friends who had recently moved to downtown Detroit and set out on an impromptu road trip (no car, of course...and winter storm advisories ignored lol). As I've written before, the train, though a long commute, has a very calming effect for me. Seeing the world literally roll by makes me realize that even when I'm still the world does not stop moving around me, that my problems are not permanent, and that, at the end of the day, home is wherever you take your heart...and that can be more places than one.
The train ride to Detroit was interesting all around. In hindsight, it felt like a long movie, characters with varied life stories coming together and connecting to share themselves with one another. My riding buddy was another 27 year old (born a few days after me) from Cleveland who was just as frustrated with the Pioneer Valley as I was when I started this blog. We did everything in our shared seat from sharing music to quoting lines from Berry Gordy's "The Last Dragon." He was nice enough, but I could tell he didn't know what to do with me. He would go from speaking gently to energetic depositions of how "hard" he was and how he could survive on his own. I couldn't tell whether he wanted to "holler" or give me a fist pound. Another passenger, a young woman but untraditionally-aged college student from the city, was a joy to talk to. She was another Christian woman and was willing to trade information and laughter on everything from man advice to our love for the Lord.
Interestingly enough, the train ride had shaped itself to be pretty entertaining. I was a little annoyed at the confusion of my male riding buddy, though at the end of the day whether he flirted with me did not matter and I understood his plight, lol. Another chance meeting on the train helped me sort through this. There was a gentleman quite a few years older than me who I'd seen early on at the station in Springfield. He had watched everyone silently, including me. On the train, we met because he and my riding buddy had become fast friends through hours of travel. He was also a college student and turned out to be pretty interesting himself.
I watched him watch my interactions with the younger man and often saw him make some perplexed expression at certain points. Several hours later, after we'd passed my riding buddy's stop, he turned to me and asked whether I'd gotten the younger man's contact info. I sleepily said no and revealed that I wasn't surprised by that fact. He shook his head, laughed softly, and told me one of the realest things I'd ever heard from a man...nonetheless, one who was not trying to talk to me:
"I don't get it. When I saw you in Springfield, the way you were dressed, the way you looked at everyone else--kindly-- and just did your own thing, I was like she must be a professional. A nurse or something. But then after talking to you, you are so down to earth...and beautiful. That's rare. Your boyfriend is lucky."
I said thanks and told him that the said boyfriend didn't exist.
He laughed and shook his head again, then tried to rationalize my character, my work, and my appearance --all he felt were great qualities--against my singleness. I then shook my head and laughed.
"At the end of the day," I concluded. "I'm just a woman.". He looked even more perplexed after that.
I carried this conversation in my mind off of the train and into Detroit during my short trip. From Macy's to Meijer to a nightclub, I interacted with quite a few men of different ages and occupations. All of them seemed a bit confused as they approached me. At this point, I kind of understood why, though the attention is always great: Men just don't know what to do with me :)
More than all of this, this trip home, hanging with my girl, revisiting my family helped me refocus myself. Waking up to the city's skyline each morning was continually renewing. Going antiques shopping with my mother was fun and the type of dates with her I look forward to in the near future once I'm done here in Amherst. My dad's "scared straight" pep talks and his presence are always encouraging; every time I get packed up to go now, though, I start noticing some hesitation. It only gets harder. Seeing my sister for the first time in her painting studio and watching her interact with one of her professors was also a proud moment for me; this kid, once seemingly apathetic about school, was now a perfectionist of a painter who rushes to her black lit class because she's interested and doesn't want to be late and has her own office on campus. And my girl, almost finished with law school, new apartment in the city, working for a lawyer in Detroit with a respectable profile, and defending cases in a district court in the metro area...I can't even say how proud I am seeing her grow.
And that's what I realize this moment is about. Growth.
I felt stunted because I was looking backwards, expecting things to be the same in spite of the few changes I attempted to make myself during my previous visit home in December. During this moment, low as I had been, I was able to see my family, my girl, different people and the spaces I was in through new eyes. As my family and friends rise to better things and also tackle obstacles along the way, so do I. It is not as lonely a road as I had convinced myself.
While I do feel encouraged, there are moments when I drift back into worry. It's a very sensitive position, so I don't expect it to pass easily. However, I'm excited about what is going to come out of all of this. The world is ahead of me, and I have a litany of people who love and support me. Above all this, the Lord has been with me and has seen me through even the lowest points of this season. I only see myself rising from this moment renewed and, more important, ready for the next challenge.
It never ends :)
Markeysha Dawn Davis
Doctoral Candidate
W. E. B. Du Bois Department of Afro-American Studies
University of Massachusetts Amherst
(313) 318-1831
mddavis@afroam.umass.edu
