The Cowboy Comeback
The year was 2020 and I was at rock bottom.
After completing graduate school, I moved to California to begin my academic career, still in my twenties and making more money than I knew what to do with. This was the American Dream and I felt undeserving.
As a first-generation immigrant I left my family in Africa to try my luck in America. It had been over a decade in America working and studying, since I didn’t qualify for any government programs or subsidies. Then It all came crashing down.
First, my mother was in a car crash that left her with traumatic brain injury. I flew her to America, paid for her world-class treatment and became her caregiver when she lived with me for over a year; she miraculously survived.
Next, the pandemic hit. Since I was the last one hired at my university, I was the first out the door. Finally, my church’s doors were closed when the governor mandated that places of worship posed a public health risk in the spreading pandemic. I sat at home, all alone, wept and had a complete breakdown. Then one night during worship I heard a still small voice that said, “you can stay, or you can go back home, either way I will be with you.” What unfolded next was a series of experiences that changed my life forever.
But first, what is elitism? It is a close cousin to entitlement, it means that you’re too good for (fill in the blank).
What is inferiority? It means that you’re too low to (fill in the blank).
What is a victim? It means you’re powerless to (fill in the blank). These are the unholy trinity of the modern woke world.
As an elitist it’s easy to look down on others, blame others, feel superior, and lack human decency because that’s what elitism does: it blinds you from the reality that misfortune is an equal opportunity driver. It’s easy to hide behind degrees, fame, money, status, racial-gender privilege and lack personal accountability, and have airs or be above reproach because that’s what elitism is: the smoke and mirrors of hubris.
Today’s elites are the biggest cowards: they need so much to cover how inadequate they are.
We’re in an era of elitist-inferiority that feels entitled because they feel less than. As an immigrant, I could have blamed structural-institutional supremacy because I wasn’t afforded the rights and privileges as natural-born citizens. As a Black person, I could have blamed White people because I perceived myself as second-class. As a woman, I could have blamed men because I felt powerless. As a not-so-young person, I could have blamed older folk for failing to set a good example. Finally, I could have blamed myself, play the victim, ruminate in self-pity, feel inferior and do nothing but complain. What does blame get you? Nowhere. Absolutely nothing.
Make no mistake, my story isn’t a riches-to-rags-to-riches story. This isn’t a get-rich scheme (we’ll get to that part later). I share my story to show you what matters in life. Two words,
Personal Responsibility
What is personal responsibility? I had to ask myself that question. At rock bottom, I could sit at home and cry all day or do something about my predicament. I turned to God. Just like He said to Moses, He said to me, “What’s in your hand?” I looked; it was my phone. I spent the next weeks looking for jobs during the pandemic and, like looking for a needle in a haystack, I became discouraged.
I can’t take that job, it’s too far away. I can’t take that job, it pays too little. I can’t take that job, I’m overqualified. “Stop! Do you want a job or not?” I could hear God say. But what about my pride, my ego, my worth? What would people back home in Africa think of me doing that as a job? “Stop! Do you want a job or not?” God repeated.
The bills were piling up and time was running out till my next rent was due. Then I got the email. Our apartment complex got bought by a new company and (you guessed it) our rent increased making my monthly rent $2,200. I emptied my savings retirement account just to keep afloat.
I went to the gas station; gas was $7 a gallon in California. I went to the grocery store, filled up my cart and left it at the check-out counter because I maxed out my credit cards. I volunteered with a local food distribution program just so that I could get some food to take home in between our church’s regular fellowship meals. I remember sleeping in my car for a week for fear that I would get evicted. Welcome to the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave!
You know there are ways around this, I could hear Satan say. You’re pretty enough to get a sugar daddy, or work at a marijuana dispensary, or drive to Las Vegas to gamble or fall into the arms of the welfare system…
It was my turn to say “Stop!” I preached to myself. “One, I may be impoverished but I’m no victim. Two, I may be humbled but I have self-respect. Three, I may have fallen on hard times but that doesn’t change the fact that my God is the Creator, Sustainer and Owner of all. Finally, stop listening to this crap and get a job!”
I did. I worked for Lyft, similar to Uber, paid my bills and met some really interesting people along the way (they probably wondered why their cab driver sounded more like a college professor). God is the only reason I made it this far: I’ve had it all, I’ve lost it all, and through it all, God is constant in His faithfulness, love and kindness.
Have you fallen from glory and lost the respect of others? Hear me. Does it occur to you that perhaps your misery is directly related to how intolerable your character is? Stop praying for God to change the world, instead pray: “change me!”
What about historical injustices, systemic prejudice and “the struggle”? Stop. The right question is: How are you re-rewriting your future history? Degrees, money, status, privilege, fame is not what makes a man (or woman). Character makes a man!
That’s what they failed to teach you at the university, or in labs, or textbooks, or lectures, or at graduation, or at corporate orientation. Character cannot be bought or sold. Character cannot be awarded or credited. Character cannot be faked. Character is what matters!
This is the poorest generation because they lack it (character) overwhelmingly. Without character you cannot have a comeback. Once you’re ready to take off your elitist garbage, I’ll show how to make a cowboy comeback.
Grit
The secret to life is grit. I had to look it up in the dictionary because it didn’t exist where I was born.
Grit (noun): firmness of mind or spirit: unyielding courage in the face of hardship or danger.
Grit is a purely American concept. I didn’t understand it until I watched a Western Film called Grit. The plot is about a girl who goes out to avenge her father’s death in the Wild West. I could see myself in her: feisty, stubborn and determined. A real cowgirl! As we say here in the West, I needed to “Cowboy-Up!” And so can you!
Grit means you don’t give up. Grit means you stop making excuses. Grit means you stop comparing yourself to others. Grit means you believe that God has given you everything you need to survive. Grit means no one has an advantage over you. Grit means you never compromise with evil, never back down and never accept an attitude of inferiority. Grit means never play dead. Grit means: get up! That is what America was founded on – pure grit – eloquently stated as “Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.” We’re lions, not spineless prey, as scripture says,
“The wicked flee when no man pursueth: but the righteous are bold as a lion” (Proverbs 28:1).
Today’s media personalities, influencers and radicals think they’ve all figured it out. The new get-rich scheme is race hustling: everything is blamed on slavery, colonization or White Supremacy (this is the part you start to cry if you’re Black or feel guilty if you’re White).
Victimhood
It’s simple. Talk about what a victim you are, how bad America and the Western world are, and you’re a race-hustler. Listen to this circus series of emotional manipulation.
Exhibit A: my great-great-great-great-grandmother was a slave and therefore I qualify for an academic scholarship.
Exhibit B: my great-great-great-great-great uncle was colonized by European White men so send me a check; oops I mean reparations.
Exhibit C: my feelings are hurt.
Exhibit D: did I mention I’m Black, I-said-my-feelings-h-u-r-t.
The old-time race hustlers (like Rev. Al Sharpton) made you want to throw up. This new cancel-culture generation of victim hustlers makes you wonder if they ever made it out of kindergarten. We have a whole generation full of academic degrees with no common sense.
My personal favorite, I got my first round of hate mail two months ago from the Diversity, Equity and Inclusion office: one told me to go back to Africa and the other needed his HBCU clique to help him spell the word hate. What a clown!
I guess the circus is in town. Featuring a lineup of Liberal Entitled “Bougie” Elites: B.A., M.A., Ph.D., and ABCDEFGXYZ.EGO Cum Laude from Brainwashing University; also known as BU, a historical university on the land occupied by wild buffalo and built by the hands of (professional con-artist) victims paid by (imaginary unicorn) oppressors, I meant colonizers, who prefer Earl Grey Tea instead of Decaf Latte driving in their eco-friendly electric cars with faux-leather seats (but don’t tell anyone it’s probably made in China).
All the things conveniently included in the fabricated woke victim hustlers’ narrative, with a sprinkle of fear-mongering history to drive the point home, of course. Please leave the circus front row seats open, those are reserved for our VIPs, the Closeted Association of Amateur Trolls (CAATs, and of course a Black version called BAATs), they get the goodie bags full of Kleenex.
Next to them is the Board of Trustees: Elitism, Entitlement, Emotional Manipulation, Intimidation, Cowardice and Excuses. Did I forget anyone?
Howdy there Political Correctness Police, I almost didn’t see you there camouflaged by the Sheriff’s Department of Snowflakes and Snobbery. This circus is sponsored by the National Foundation of Dogs-Lives-Still-Matter and the Corporate Woke Economic Forum Inc.
Take heart, don’t be intimidated by them and don’t let them bully you! Our Lord Jesus Christ dealt with similar clowns of hypocrisy (Matthew 23). We’re on the winning side! How do I know that? Look at how envious they are of us; they can’t stop talking about us rightwing Jesus Lovers! No matter how hard things get (Matthew 24), remember our Comeback King Jesus is coming again!
Comrades and Bravehearts, what are we fighting for? Our honor, self-respect, reputation, status, financial security, patriotism, future, way of life, rights, convictions, values and principles, faith, family, freedom, sanity… This world is passing away, the circus will leave town, all the craziness will end, and we will be in our heavenly home.
We’re here for a reason and that is to fight the good fight of faith (2 Timothy 4:7). For me it’s personal, I want to be able to tell my future children that their mom was a brave cowgirl who didn’t let bullies get away with manipulation, victimhood, inferiority, intimidation or blame-game; they have no excuse to become “one of them.” I close out by sharing my favorite ammo.
“For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strong holds; Casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:4-5).
Before I forget to do the honors, it’s (almost) Black History Month here in America. Drumroll, please.
Let’s honor our real Black heroes: Harriet Tubman, Frederick Douglass, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Herman Cain, Dr. Ben Carson, Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas, Condoleezza Rice, Thomas Sowell, Candace Owens, Tim Scott and Larry Elder. Hear, hear!
Until next time, see you at the rodeo!
Liza Ngenye is a third generation Adventist living in Southern California. Her personal writing ministry primarily focuses on issues of spiritualism, sexuality and race. You can contact her by email: lizangenye@gmail.com