Who I am as a woman is a direct result of me watching my Mama, Gmama and Aunties. The way I walk, talk, dress, speak, argue, etc. Everything I say and do is nothing but an echo of the strength and power of these human beings that God blessed me to share DNA with.
The matriarchs of my family were all born along the eastern seaboard to a mother who worked tirelessly as a migrant farmer and carried her babies on her back while she worked in order to provide for them. The first born was a gem in her own rite and was rightfully named Ruby Lee.
Every story I've ever heard of my beloved Aunt Rubilee as she was affectionately called, caused me to believe that she was a whole cup of sugar and an equal, yet heaping cup of spice. She was the feisty one. She cared for people and what they were going through, but don't come to Ms. Ruby with no mess. Right before she would tell you where you could go, she would put her pointer finger up as if she was going to point out every word in the air so you could clearly understand what she was saying and where she was coming from so there would be no mistaking what needed to be heard. Arthritis made it hard for her to do a lot of things, but she never struggled to use that pointer finger to get her message across. And God bless everyone who had a good talkin' to coming to them before she wore glasses regularly, because before that finger went up, her little eyes would squint over her glasses and directly into your eyes. Or through them, to your soul. Whichever made you pay attention more. That was your warning, that's all you got.
But again, she wasn't all spice. There was a whole lot of sugar in that spirit. Aunt Rubilee always made me laugh. Whether she was prancing around in my stilettos reminiscing about how she used to be able to wear the same shoes all night long and The Bucket of Blood, or telling me she loved my life because I went pole dancing with my homegirls, then discreetly trying to convince my mama and stepfather to install a pole in their house. She made me laugh. She made me LAUGH.
She went through a lot. I know she did, but my God, she made me laugh. She knew she had come out of the worst of things on the better side and carried herself in a way that demanded respect. You respected Aunt Rubilee and she made you proud of yourself for doing so. She wasn't overly emotional but when she did release or show you exactly how she was feeling, you knew she was being honest. Completely honest. And I admired that about her. Happy, sad, grateful, annoyed, angry, it didn't matter. Do you realize how hard it is for a Black woman to be honest with her feelings and never seem to regret it or not worry about being judged for it?
She wasn't the president of any political party, she wasn't a millionaire, the world didn't know her name, but she was who she was and she stood firmly in that. That ALONE is an accomplishment. So many women leave this earth never truly knowing who they are. I believe my Auntie knew who she was and what she had a part in creating. The legacy that she took part in continuing.
I will always remember her wit, her laugh, her imitations of people from her youth, her advice on men, her nails always being done, ALWAYS, her epic side-eye, the way she always smelled like Avon's strawberry lip balm, when I won $1,000 at the casino and bought her a fuzzy navel and myself an Alabama slamma...and she finished her drink first, the way she and my Gmama tried to coach Kobe and Shaq every time the Lakers played and her banana pudding.
Whether it was a love story about her dancing to belly rubbing music or a story about her telling a young lady she "fight bloody fights" and hitting her over the head with a bucket. I will cherish having the opportunity to know you, to love you, to say you are my Auntie.
Nothing shocks the system like mortality. We may have said goodbye to you last night in the physical realm, but I'll see you again someday. I'll be sure to wear my panty-hose with the seam up the back, with my heels high to the sky. You taught me well.
And for that, I thank you.
Love,
Quinny-Pooh
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