Better have my money
Pay me what you owe me. God bless Rihanna for her truthful word. I actually listened to the song for the first time on youtube today. I found it hilarious. Except for the N word, it will never be played again because of the N word.
But seriously. I’m 30. I consider myself very young and very old at the same time. When it comes to asserting myself when it is my own money with my African mother/aunties. I have real problems.
The truth is they will always see you as the little girl who needs to defer to them. But I’m an incredibly private person and I don’t like people in my business. So why should an African auntie know how much I earn?
Worse yet when they owe you money their leaning on the good faith of the African community and the fact that you need to go to the “proper channels” i.e. I need to ask my mum to ask them. Which means that they have time and wiggle room to play you for your own money.
Which is why I don’t play with my money. I also don’t like people asking me for favours. Because I am expected to say yes because I’m “successful” and “rich” but how long will I stay rich if you keep taking from me? Basically I say no unless I can afford for the person not to pay me back, everything else is stress.
But why are African aunties so obsessed with money, mine to be more specific? Because the community is based on a level of co-dependency. Some words that really struck me was I was trying to talk to a friend on the subject and the first thing she said to me was “you’re going to have problems when you get married” And I agree. I had co-dependency issues with my parents and it did cause marital problems. In fact it was a chip on my shoulder when I was dating, a reason that I married because I felt no one would love me and also when I re-entered the dating game another chip on my shoulder. The truth of the matter is. I hate it. I felt no one would love me because no one would put up with the stress my mum would put me through whenever she wants/needs something.
I hate being asked for money, or for financial help. To co-sign, to finesse. I absolutely hate being circumspect with my words because I don’t know which version of the truth I need to be telling. Not only that, its draining, on the spirit and my spirit is already tired.
One of the reasons I decided to go down my path as a tax advisor is that I wanted to make enough money that no matter the foolish decisions my parents made financially, I would still be okay. I needed to provide myself with a financial buffer because when I divorced I had to sacrifice to maintain their standard of living and not punish them for their mistakes. I swore it was the last time I’d burden myself for people who did this to themselves. Yet here I am, not 2 years later doing the same thing. This time for the sake of children.
What happened was something I thought had been irradicated in the 2010’s, i.e. African men giving money to their families in Africa, whilst impoverishing their families in the UK. My dad had his “famble” i.e. his sisters, niece, nephews and sons. They had priority access to his time, and money. His “Family” however where my mum and me. We made him look good. I poured myself out, sold my youth down the river to make my dad look good. This is where the co-dependency started. At 13. Then when my dad died, it was his family, not his “famble” (Creole for Family) that buried him. We were his second family and we were second class citizens. I felt that.
He loved us, he lived for us, but ultimately he died for them. He died because he refused to quit his addiction to them and to stress and to helping people out of problems they created. 2 things I swore off when he passed away.
I’d never be like him in that I would not help people over and above myself.
I’d live for myself. Travel, eat good food, drink good non-alcoholic wine and truly learn what it is to be alive.
All of these things require means, which means…
Bitch better have my money.
Grace and Courage.
Annetta Mother Smith