ABOUT “ANGELA”

I first met “Angela” at the beginning of 2021. Interacting with her was like a slap in the face. I have met mothers before and pardon me for assuming some form of congeniality since we had that one thing (motherhood) in common. The mothers I have associated with are usually characterized by respect; from the way they talk, the people they hang out with, respect for property, the value of money and hard work, and regard for family and people. Not to mention the respect for their children and their space. I was certain that at the very least, we could respect each other as humans and adults. But I was wrong. Then again, perhaps she expressed it how she knew it best; but it was most unpleasant, to say the least.

We were working at her son’s house on a project that he had us on (which is a story for another day), and I had gone with my little one. The rest of the team, which included my husband, were on location for the shoot, and my little one and I stayed behind. My baby was 3 months old at the time. Angela walked in, and when I stood up to greet her, she looked right past me like I wasn’t even there. I introduced myself and explained what I was doing in her son’s house with a little baby, and she looked at me sharply then shifted her gaze to my little one. (I had prepared a place for her to sleep on the couch. )

By this time, I was flushed, confused, and shaking, slowly feeling torn down and inadequate as a mother. I went ahead to explain to her that I had layered blankets and shawls before placing her on the couch. Now, I don’t remember if she rolled her eyes, shook her head, or sucked her teeth when I was done explaining myself, but she went ahead trying to find what she came for. 

I was left standing there like a chicken that had been rained on. Then, almost as if in a very weak attempt to “redeem” myself (after that dress down, she made me feel like I needed to), I asked her, “What are you looking for? Maybe I can help.” She was looking for either a tablet or a charger. It wasn’t in the house, so she left; glided out of the room like the wind. With every move I made that day, she was right behind me, like my shadow. Looking down her nose at me like I didn’t deserve to be in her son’s mini-mansion.  

I have performed close to one hundred stage plays in all forty-one years of my life, and I had never met a more discriminative, prideful, toxic, deeply wounded human being. When I first got my script, I was so impressed by her work and dared to imagine that it would be an out-of-this-world experience. Well, I was right about that part, only that it did not come in the way I had expected. This was my encounter with Angela. With all the experience and exposure that woman had, she knew nothing about living with human beings or valuing peaceful human interactions. She walked around portraying herself like a god, expecting that people would bow to her every whim. 

Before I met her, I imagined she looked like a Nubian queen; with flawless, dark glowing skin that reflected any light that hit it together with her well-kept dreadlocks tied up in a beautiful turban. I pictured her in colorful tunics, and kaftan, with beautiful ethnic, chunky custom jewelry that would clink and clank as she moved while raising her arms to direct from one end of the stage to the other.

“You are fat and ugly, and after my first week of working with you, I decided to leave you to your devices… If you have a problem with your weight, and you do, do something about it… You are cheapening my show…” These are censored versions of the insults she hurled at me throughout the two months of rehearsal that we had to work together. She carried herself around like God’s gift to the theater. She cut me down and tore me apart, and had it not been for my family being evicted and not having any food to eat, I would never have gone through with the show. She called me a non-actor and said she would never have cast me had it been up to her.

I was sick throughout the entire project, all the way into the staging of the show, which ran a course of one and a half weeks. At each and every one of the shows, I got a standing ovation for my performance. When she heard of it, she sent someone to come and confirm and when she saw it, she made her ‘minions’ solicit standing ovations for the other actors. Shortly after that, she sent me an email dressing me down and tearing at my performance, saying that I was overacting, and copying her colleague, and they both tore at me but God still showed up and showed off, because He does not share His Glory! 

The stories and the tear-jerking experiences shared about Angela go on and on, but my heart can’t take it to recount. It is sad to know that there are people who hurt others just because they can; even worse, there are people who are hurting so badly and spilling the blood of their wounds on others. I have had my fair share of pain, and the pressure of it can crush you. It has been said thousands of times before: Forgiveness is more for you than it is for the other person. These are words easier said than done. We hold onto pain and unforgiveness because we keep replaying the events in our minds, and we feel the hurt and pain all over again. As time goes by, you get tired of carrying the burden with you everywhere you go, you realize that the person who hurt you is not regurgitating the events; they have gone on with their lives, and are living unapologetically. Ephesians 4:32 says “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, as Christ forgave you.”

In the same breath, we need to be honest with ourselves to own up to our part in the outcome of everything. At the same time, realize that our freedom ends where the next person begins. It is all a bit of a balancing act, but having tried and tested it, it is truly liberating. It keeps you sweeping only at your store, and knowing how far to go with other people. It requires us to seek peace and pursue it, just like The Good Book says. (Hebrews 12:14) Now, it may sound like a lot of work, but it really isn’t! It is liberating because it aligns with Kingdom principles that are without remorse, and that by this token, they have the backing of God. He, therefore, carries what burdens you, and heals you of what hurts you. 

The “Angelas” of this world set out to hurt others like they are hurting. Let’s not allow misery to successfully enjoy our company. Let’s instead affirm ourselves in the truth of who God says we are and walk in that confidence. Learn and grow from whatever you discover about yourself, and let the negativity roll off just like water off a duck’s back. 

More than anything let us put on compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, patience, and bear with one another. (Colossians 3:12-13). May our interactions ooze grace. May people feel the warmth in our utterances and in our deeds. Let our lights shine. It costs nothing to be kind.

Read more on how our words can heal or kill in this post: VERBAL ASSASSINATION. https://www.christmyanchor.com/verbal-assassination/