Journey to 35: Unapologetic
Me in the world as a black woman at an intersection of being raised in a homogenous environment.
Black people alwasys saw me as black. White people thought they saw me as black but I now realize for most I represented so much more. I was their way of saying “I have a black friend.” I was proof that they’re not racist. I assimilated and they were comfortable with this type of black girl.
Well I’m not that black girl anymore. I ate microaggressions for breakfast, lunch and dinner for decades and it’s over now. How do I know this is what so many people thought? Because of their reactions when I speak up for black people...they find it wrong for me to do so, they find it wrong for me to use my voice.
On my journey to 35 this has been a difficult one for me to wrap my mind around. When I look back and think of these types of statements:
- whitest black girl
- I’ve never kissed a black girl before
- can you pronounce this name b/c it looks like it’s from your neck of the woods.
- my parents aren’t okay with me dating a black person
- I told them I’m not racist b/c I have a really good friend that’s black
- you’re so well spoken
All of those things reduced me down into an object. An object instead of a human.
As I’ve grown I’ve stopped allowing this type of talk around me. It’s lead to a lot of uncomfortable conversations. And when I say uncomfortable I mean uncomfortable for others. As I’ve grown more comfortable with being a black woman in a racist country I’m no longer uncomfortable having these conversations because I’m simply standing in my truth. There are people I used to call friends that weren’t able to handle this. They internalized MY struggles and MY injustices as their own. They took me mentioning any micro aggression as me blaming them. They would defend people that offended me even if they didn’t know the person. They would reduce my feelings by saying that I must have misinterpreted the situation. And eventually one of them would tell me I make her feel bad for being white. All of these things are a form of white guilt. In the beginning I would listen to them and I would feel bad for sharing my experiences. I would feel bad for sharing my feelings. But most of all I would feel bad that I upset someone I considered to be a friend. Back then I never dismissed these people as friends for this behavior.
I never could reconcile all these emotions and it manifested into a trigger for me. As my eyes opened and my friend circle expanded into a more diverse set of individuals I realized I wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t alone. My feelings and thoughts were valid and there are others out there experiencing microagressions too. And most importantly, there are white people out there that don’t internalize your struggle as a black person. There are white people that don’t feel bad but rather feel called to action. There are white people that don’t stand for microagressions or racist language from other white people. There are white people that truly get it. There are white people speaking up and standing up. It’s refreshing to realize those are the only types of white friends I have now...people I can trust and feel safe around.
Think about a giant ballon...one of those thicker ones. You can poke it very easily with a needle and it won’t pop. You can even do that multiple times with out it completely deflating. But each time you poke it with that needle a little bit of air seeps out...then eventually there’s no air left. Alternatively, you can just take one quick blow to pop a ballon. Well, for me the eventual and prolonged deflation is what microagressions feel like.
On my journey to 35 I have learned to be unapologetic. I have learned to put myself first. I have learned that it’s okay to express myself. But most importantly I’ve learned that it’s okay to say “stop, I’m not your teacher on all things black...go search the internet, go do whatever it is you do to learn about things but just stop asking me b/c I don’t want to be your black science experiment anymore. Yep, that’s what it feels like when you spend 30yrs as a token black girl and shaman of all things black to the white people around you. This wasn’t easy b/c some people would say “but how am I supposed to learn?!?” And to that I would respond “read a book, watch the news, apply whatever method you use to learn about pop culture, listen when someone talks about their experiences but don’t expect to be able to dissect it with questions.” This might have been the hardest but most necessary lesson on my journey to 35. This was a hard lesson b/c on the one hand I felt responsible for teaching others; however, on the other hand I felt exhausted for having that responsibility when it wasn’t reciprocal.
I love being unapologetically black. I love loving me and the skin I’m in. It feels good like warm sun bouncing off my skin...like this picture.