Women have killed many men. The men that stood proud, the men that simply stood, and the men that didn’t know how to stand yet have all been victims to a woman’s words. These words can kill spirits, dreams, and ambitions in one argument. One might argue this is a defense mechanism making up in words what women lack in statue and strength. I would argue it is a feeble attempt to revenge a bruised heart and battered hopes.
I don’t know when I became a killer. I don’t know if my need to make him feel like the lowest of lows were warranted by his initial actions. They were probably not. I think the first time I killed with words I felt bad…I think. However, the power to hurt, like I was hurting, outweighed my residual remorse. It was not until then, when I cut below the belt, that I finally evoked a real sense of hurt out of a man that resembled the hurt I had. I smirked. It felt good. And for a while, things were better. He seemed to understand whatever point I was trying to make. But that was always short-lived and so I would dig in my bag and pull out my words so I could kill again.
With time, I became a master at this craft of killing, a sniper if you will. I took what I had learned from one relationship to the next, more hurt to the next, more vicious to the next. In each relationship it got easier…funnier. Like clockwork, after the honeymoon period was over, I would attack. Then one day, I had nothing but time to do a body count and evaluate all of the damage I had done. I thought about everything I deliberately said to destroy. It was that day I decided to become a builder. I was no longer interested in making men that I supposedly love feel emasculated. That thrill was gone.
I knew my words still had power, but now they were used to uplift and empower. “You ain’t shit” was replaced with “Baby keep trying because I know you can do it.” I saw my relationships change and, for once, grow. It was a pleasant change from the crash and burn method previously used. However, I never imagined my words had the power to heal my once broken relationships. And with the new relationships and the mended relationships, my words eventually healed me.
The Mocha Café 