When Beyoncee Knowles debuted her latest single a while back, my husband heard it before I did. It was a catchy tune that he, knowing how much of a die hard Beyonce fan I am, just knew I would like. He called me one morning while he was driving to work and let me hear it blaring in the background.
Admittedly, it was a catchy little diddy: “Who run the world? Girls! Who run the world? Girls!”
A few weeks later, Beyonce herself prefaced her performance of the song with “Men have been running this world forever, and it’s time for a change.”
And I was up off the bed, ready to dance and shake like the diva herself.
And then I stopped and I thought about it, really thought about it.
Who run this motha…
Girls? Yes, actually. Me, actually. And I have been “running it” my entire adult life.
First, as a single woman. I worked three jobs at one point just to stay afloat and because I was too proud to ask my mother or anyone else for help.
Then, as a young woman in my first marriage when I was certain that I would no longer have to do certain things like pump gas, wash/clean my car or mow the lawn.
What ended up happening was, my car never stayed cleaned, I either pumped my own gas or risked being stranded on the side of the road, and strangers stopped on the highway to help me change my tire because I never bothered to learn to do it myself.
Because clearly, I didn’t marry that type of man.
That marriage went kaput for various reasons and I was single again and a mom. Not only was I “running it” for myself, I had two little people I was responsible for.
Eventually, I met and married their stepdad and I find this marriage to be drastically different with tinges of similarities.
I still pump my own gas, but he washes and cleans the cars. He brings in the bulk of the money, but I make sure the bills are paid. I shop for the groceries, cook the food and clean the house. I do the laundry, but he does most of the ironing. I feed and wash the dog, but he scrubs the turtle’s shell because I’m too afraid to touch it.
I’ve always thought I wanted a Prince, someone who took care of everything. If he brought home the bacon, then I’d happily fry it. However, I’m realizing now that relinquishing that control would mean driving myself crazy with the what if’s.
What if he forgets to mail the mortgage or pay the car insurance? What if he skips laundry day and we don’t have any clean uniforms for work?
So, while “running it” can be daunting, in my life, it’s pretty necessary. Type A personality that I am, in order for me to feel confident that something’s been done, I pretty much have to do it myself.
And that’s me, running the world and such… my world, that is.