Be a human, not a Black woman

I have been battling a cold/allergy flare-up with a side of sinus headache for the past several days and honestly, I haven’t been in a mood to write. However, as I was making my morning rounds with email, I received the following email and despite my pounding headache, I realized that I have a lot to say.

We are living in a time when the president of the United States openly shares his disdain of Black and Brown people. His most trusted advisors hold openly white nationalist views, and the unfair treatment of Black and Brown people in 2019 is not exactly a secret—yet there are some who find those of us who speak out against racial atrocities to be the bad guys. There are those who feel we should stuff down our racial identity and simply become human; as if that is enough to ensure our just and fair treatment.

Last week, Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris burned and in less than 24 hours, money was pledged from all over the world to restore this Western treasure. I have never been to Paris to see Notre Dame in person,  but I can respect the historical significance of the space along with its sheer architectural beauty.

That said, in the weeks before the Notre Dame fire, several Black churches in Louisiana were burned in what we now know to be hate crimes and the POTUS said absolutely nothing about it. In fact, the fundraising to rebuild these churches was going almost nowhere until it was pointed out on social media that the response to Notre Dame vs. three Black churches spoke volumes about what we treasure and protect from a cultural framework. As awful as the fire was at Notre Dame, the fact that it could be used as a true learning moment that raised money for the three Black churches was the one positive that came out of it.

However, if the collective “we” believed in a shared humanity that did not elevate whiteness, the response to the three churches in Louisiana would have been different to begin with.  However, that isn’t our reality and denying that reality only serves to continue the elevation of whiteness.

We cannot heal our racial wounds without an honest acknowledgement of what has happened and what continues to happen when it comes to race.

As a Black woman, I earn less than my white counterparts. Equal Pay Day was April 2; that date moves every year because it symbolizes how far into the year women must work (and add to their earnings the previous year) to catch up what men earned in the previous year alone. But, that date is only, practically speaking, applicable to white women. For Black women, Equal Pay Day will happen on August 22, followed by Indigenous Women’s Equal Pay Day on September 23 and Latinx Women’s Equal Pay Day on November 20. Yes, we are all women but as you can see, not all women are equal in their inequity—white women are still at the top of the ladder.

Structural racism and biases play a role in the healthcare that Black women receive or. I should say, don’t receive. We know that regardless of class and income, Black women on average receive worse outcomes. To put a face on what that looks like, look no further than tennis legend Serena Williams. She shared openly about the health issues she faced in the aftermath of giving birth to her daughter and how she wasn’t being heard by health professonals “caring” for her and had to be her own best advocate and aggressively so—and if she hadn’t done that, she very well could have lost her life.

Then there is the horrific story that came out of my hometown of Chicago a few days ago. For two decades now, a possible serial killer has been targeting mostly Black women and only now is it being looked at. To the authorities, Black women’s lives are worth so little that it’s only taken 20 years for someone to see a pattern?

In my life, racism is a reality—from my early years of apartments suddenly not being available to look at when I arrived for a viewing (despite having been available very shortly before I got there) to being assumed by a cop to be a sex worker (when in the car with my own husband during a holiday drunk-check traffic stop) and endless other kinds of examples. Even now as a middle-aged Black woman, despite being known for my anti-racism work, I still encounter entities that will offer me less money for speaking engagements than my white collaborators earn for them. (As many know, I work with the author, Debby Irving several times a year and we have honest conversations about what we are being paid; after once talking at a venue where she discovered she had received an honorarium and I didn’t, she vowed that would never happen again.)

Racism can even rear its head in my most intimate moments when despite what I thought to be careful vetting, realizing that a lover didn’t see me as a person but saw me as a Black woman with all the stereotypical expectations that so many people have of Black women in sexual spaces. Sorry, I wasn’t that hot jungle bunny, dude!

This doesn’t even begin to touch on what it has meant to parent Black children in a world not made for Black adults, much less our babies.

If claiming my humanity as a Black woman is threatening and off-putting, perhaps one should question why they are so bothered my insistence for a place at the table of humanity. Rather than writing me an email which amounts to a pile of white fragility, perhaps one should pick up what I call the starter pack and read Debby Irving’s Waking Up White and Robin DiAngelo’s White Fragility in hopes of learning just how much whiteness has stolen from non-white people, particularly the Black and Indigenous ones, and how it has set white people up to only see the world from their racial silo and their expectations of “normal.”  

The thing about the silo of whiteness is that when you are in it, you think that you have an expansive view of the world, when in reality you are limited by the lies that whiteness has fed to you in order to keep you committed to the system of white supremacy. It makes you think that you are being helpful in writing me, when in fact you are an agent of hate. In choosing to tell me to be human and not be a Black woman, you are trying to silence me to perpetuate your dominance as a white person and your very erroneous view of how the world works.

Sorry, but I will not be silenced.


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Self-care is fighting racism

I wrote my first piece on race in the fall of 2003. My mother was dying but she did live long enough to read a few of my pieces in both the Portland Press Herald and the Portland Phoenix. At the time, I had no idea that writing about racism would fundamentally change my life.

In 2008, when I started this site, my main goal was to write the type of pieces that editors typically squashed at that time for fear of upsetting their readership. It was also a way for me to connect with other Black people and also non-Black people of color living in predominantly white spaces. Again, I had no idea how much this site and my work would eventually change my life.

As I have shared many times, I would later go on to become the executive director of Community Change Inc., a Boston-based anti-racism organization that celebrated its 50th anniversary last year.

Given the fact that I run an anti-racism organization and write and speak about racism, I spend a lot of time thinking about racism—more so than the average Black person, and the average Black person has to deal with and think about racism a lot. So, as a Black woman in America—thinking about racism almost 24/7 is not always a good thing.

Unlike my white colleagues and peers in anti-racism work (and outside it) taking a break from my work is harder than one might think. After all, I can take some time off from the day job, this site and speaking gigs, but I can’t take a break from being Black in America.

Over the years, I have written extensively about how racism can creep into everyday life. It was four years ago this month, where a family outing to tell the kids that their father and I were separating turned into a racial moment that went viral. A trip for gelato became the day that my then nine-year-old daughter had her first experience with the n-word.

The number of moments that have become racialized events are too numerous to count and frankly, the majority of these events occurred long before Trump became President. The day my daughter experienced the pain of that horrid word, Barack Obama, our nation’s first Black president, was still in office.

In other words, America had a racism problem long before Trump. It’s just that prior to Trump taking office, racism was on simmer and Trump turned the fire up. Simmering racism is just as toxic as the raging flames of racism—it just might kill you slower.

Since 2016, we have seen average people of all hues attempt to address the racial issues in this country and while that’s a great thing. The problem is that anti-racism work requires constant self-care, self-awareness and, at times, the ability to detach.

Given my work, that may sound surprising but the truth is, you cannot stay in this work long term without knowing your limits and when to walk away.

As Kenny Rogers sang in “The Gambler”: You gotta know when to hold’ em, know when to fold ‘em; know when to walk away and know when to run

For Black folks and other people of color, this work of anti-racism isn’t just our work or even our side-gig; it’s our lives. Day to day and hour to hour. A rarely acknowledged truth is that even within the anti-racism community, when we are with our white colleagues, the relationships can be toxic and take a toll on us.

I repeat: Even in anti-racism spaces, white folks can and do cause harm. These are our allies and accomplices, who often by their own lack of awareness perpetuate the same systems of oppression that we are fighting against.

Which means even the good guys have the potential to be the villains and that means that we are getting it on two fronts. As you still have to exist in the larger world, which is filled with white people who have not a clue and are slamming you left and right with either direct racism or microaggressions.

You can fight each and every act of racism that comes at you, and while it may be the right thing to do, it will probably destroy you. We are not designed to be in a state of flight or fight all the time. It feels awful and it’s harmful. Stress in Black bodies is real and is one of the reasons for the greater level of health problems many of us face compared to white people. We can’t be on all the time.

I am not saying to stop fighting, but instead saying that we need discernment in picking our battles—and also knowing when to walk away. If the work is too much, it’s okay to sit out the protest, calls, etc. It’s okay to unplug and just take care of yourself. More important, though, is creating a community or a few good people who can hold you in community. People you can be real with and who know you and the work.

In recent years, many people, particularly young Black and Brown people, have come into movement work and I worry about whether we are giving them the support they need. Our work requires being in both community and relationship with one another, it’s what allows for accountability in the work. It’s also what nourishes us in the darker moments of the work.

In a world that struggles with the inherent beauty and value of Black life, it is a radical concept to love yourself so completely as a Black person that you put yourself first and tend to your inner garden as part of your movement work.


If this piece or this blog resonates with you, please consider a one-time “tip” or become a monthly “patron”…this space runs on love and reader support. Want more BGIM? Consider booking me to speak with your group or organization.

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The virtues of anger

Anti-racism work is tiring. Unlike other jobs (whether it’s truly your day job like with me or virtually a job like for those who dedicate their off time to it), where time off is important to one’s overall sense of well being, it doesn’t necessarily work the same. Doing anti-racism work as a Black woman in Trump’s America means that even time off can be a loaded issue. After all, racism, whether personal or systemic doesn’t operate on my time clock nor does it take a break. I have had racism find me on vacation, when shopping, when eating, when caring for an ailing family member…oh yeah, any activity that I engage in can be interrupted by white supremacy and racism. It’s just an uncomfortable truth and it has always been an uncomfortable truth.

As a result, I believe in blowing off steam by any means necessary. When I learned that letting things out was vital to my well-being, my anxiety decreased and my blood pressure thanked me. My usual venue for blowing off steam is Twitter. Those who follow me on Twitter tend to know this. Despite the site being a cesspool so often these days, there is still much good and useful about it. And, as someone who often works alone and from home, Twitter serves as a de-facto water cooler. I can pop in and pop out.

A few days ago, I did just that. A well-meaning but racially ignorant white acquaintance made a comment and it was the type of comment that will never fail to piss me off. For some reason, white people and their system of whiteness believes that when a Black person or other non-white person experiences racism, that it is far more important to “go high” or be a classy act than it is to stand in truth.

As a 46-year-old Black woman, who has been Black all my life. I am here to tell you that being the “better person” in the face of injustice get tiring; it wears on you. And after a while, it steals your humanity. Between the large acts of racism and the daily microaggressions that are pretty much par for the course, that means you spend more than half of your waking hours (assuming you are a POC around white people) stuffing down your feelings and playing a role. What people see on the outside does not match what’s on the inside. You are seething with rage and you can’t or don’t express it because if you do, you risk being labeled. And as long as most of us earn our daily bread working in white-owned institutions, showing up in our fullness as people is simply not an option.

So, after fielding an ignorant comment from the casual, white acquaintance, I went on Twitter to blow off steam and that’s when things got weird.

A white woman tweeted back to tell me that she was unfollowing me because my tweet was sad and that I need to find peace with myself and the world because my anger is poisonous.

*blinks*

So, a Black woman expressing herself is poisonous? Clearly this woman didn’t know or care that she was the embodiment of what Black folks deal with everyday. The denial of our humanity via tone policing. Tone policing is one of the oldest tools in a white liberal’s bag when it comes to race. Rather than seeking to get at the heart of what’s causing the anger, the anger becomes the focal point.

Remember, this all started because of the casual acquaintance suggesting that I should go high/be a classy act and now a random white woman on Twitter is telling me that I need to find some peace.

Instead of asking how they can be a part of the solution and work toward becoming actively anti-racist, the onus is placed on me (or any marginalized person) to a better person. There are times in life, when being the better person can be a good option, but never has Black humanity been granted by being the bigger person. If one is constantly abused by the system and individual white people, how is shrugging that off “better” or “bigger?” When has passively accepting chronic abuse caused it to disappear? Giving a pass to the oppressors only gives them license to continue.

Systemic racism and white supremacy will not be dismantled by being a better person. If that were the case, racism should have been eradicated during Barack Obama’s eight years as U.S. president. Obama and his wife were always going high and this country thanked them by electing an ignorant buffoon and openly racist, sexist SOB. People may have admired the Obama’s both in and out of office but even when the most powerful man in the world was a Black man, the needle didn’t move on racism. Instead, a nastier and more virulent form of racism sprouted up in our collective yards. Weeds on steroids.

To be honest, it is disheartening when people who would probably see themselves as allies of sorts engage in the same violent behavior towards POC as the openly racist. Make no mistake, tone policing is violent and harmful. It also widens the gulf and ensures that no real change will happen.

Whiteness is a system of rules and norms designed to ensure the long-term survival of white supremacy. One of those norms is discomfort with uncomfortable feelings and an avoidance of the unpleasant and uncomfortable. Another of those norms is a minimizing of the feelings of those harmed.

Black people, Indigenous people and other marginalized groups have every right to their anger. As a Black person whose ancestors were enslaved and whose father grew up under Jim Crow laws and who lives every day of my life fighting to be seen as fully human, I am very angry. Thankfully, I have learned to use my anger for good by working for social change. Anger and a willingness to not accept the status quo is often the fuel that motivates people to change. If you can move past the place of being immobilized by anger or wildly flailing about with it and instead by fueled by it, your anger can be a source of good and you can actually find peace by being angry.

The question I have is: Why aren’t the good white people angrier? Why can’t white people who purport to care about racial justice use their anger and privilege for systemic change instead of stifling the anger of marginalized people? Why can’t white people use their anger to confront the bigots in their lives? Instead, only racist white people are actively at work using their anger to protect their self interest, which is to maintain whiteness and white supremacy. And it’s getting them pretty far lately.

Rather than feeling sorry, shocked or immobilized, tap into your anger and let it be the guiding light on your journey to change.


If this piece or this blog resonates with you, please consider a one-time “tip” or become a monthly “patron”…this space runs on love and reader support. Want more BGIM? Consider booking me to speak with your group or organization.

Comments will close on this post in 60-90 days; earlier if there are spam attacks or other nonsense.

Photo by Cristian Newman on Unsplash