What I'm Reading: Self help Edition #1

I've been taking time to focus on raising my awareness about issues associated with race. I have a strong belief that raising awareness about the importance of mental health with minority groups is something I'm supposed to be doing.  I was joking with a friend that at 39, I finally know what
I want to be when I grow up. I started working in social services when I graduated from University. I remember applying for first job working with individuals with intellectual disabilities thinking I was going to change the world. I had a shiny new bachelor's degree and I was going to use my new piece of paper to influence change in a BIG way!

Clearly, I have a flare for the dramatic, but helping others is something that I truly enjoy. As I begin to start my journey into a new career. I find myself reflecting on that 20 something ingenue that had no idea about the world she was entering. Textbooks can tell you about a disorder or condition, but all the readings, papers and tests didn't prepare me for working with clients that were actually diagnosed with the conditions I studied. Learning about racism is similar to my school vs real life experiences. Anyone can read about racism and think they understand.... addressing racism however requires a further step... people have to take action. Knowing about racism is not an excuse for not doing anything to address racism. Does that mean everyone needs to start their own advocacy groups?? No, but do you address racist statements made by family or friends? Do you have resources that can be shared with your manager? Do you stand up for the person of colour against a person using racial slurs? Do you change the channel when people start stalking about race?

I mentioned in my previous blog that I have been doing a lot of reading and educating myself about racism. While I have a passion for working with black women, education is universal and sharing what I learn is also a form of advocacy for me. I've always had my nose in a book; learning for me is something I'm drawn to. I had to make sure that I didn't fall into the deep dark hole of reading journal articles when researching topics for papers. OnceI find something fascinating, I have a curious desire to know everything I possibly can about a subject.

Racism is something I'm passionate about not just because it impacts me daily, I truly believe that humans can be better. I speak from experience and I know that others that look like me have their own similar stories to tell. My education, my blog, and the interactions I have daily are all opportunities for me to speak my truth. Maya Angelou said, "when you know better, do better" and it's a statement I believe to be true. Should I have to keep talking about racism, no, it's 2020 and it's disappointing that more progress has not been made. I'm tired of having to defend and explain my experiences to justify that racism exists. I get very frustrated that with today's technology, some people have no understanding of why blackface is racist...no, you can't touch my hair and ask me "where I'm from" and risk getting a hot slap.

Help me understand if you know all about the Kardashians, your favorite tv show or movie, you can follow sports teams religiously, know every word to songs on the radio, but learning about racism... no thank you black girl, can you just tell me??? It is not minorities job to educate the same people that perpetuate the racism! Learning about racism is not a secret and I for one and tired of making excuse for people that "don't know better". So how does this mentality tie into hoping that people will be better? Frankly, Anti racism is an intentional, collective action and people of colour simply can't fight racism alone.

In her book Why I'm No Longer Talk to White People About Race, Reni Eddo-Lodge talks about how structural racism and the institutions that support oppression impact people of colour and how inaction by those in power also continues to support the ideas of colonialism and imperialism. As I read Reni's book, I could recall the blank stares I get when I talk to some white people about racism. I can see their eyes glaze over and I feel a sting of hurt knowing they didn't even hear a word I said. I've heard the defensive "I didn't own slaves" or "I'm not racist, I have a black friend"... Fine, you didn't own slaves, however that doesn't mean that you don't presently benefit from the actions of our ancestors. You can still be a racist and have black friends, have a black partner/spouse, hell even have black children.

Too often the defensiveness of white people prevents meaningful conversations about racism from happening. White fragility and guilt prevent white people from taking action to eliminate racism. Know better... how do I start learning how to "know better"?? Honestly, I have no answer to your question and I'm tired of having to bring up my pain in order to get white people to understand the impact of racim on people of colour. While my focus of this post was about the challenges of talking to white people about race, I encourage everyone to read and learn. For me, learning more about race helped inform my opinions with facts and I feel better able to explain my experiences. People of colour learning more about racim can also help with feelings of loneliness, or that you're the only one going through something. I found online communities for black women where I could share my learnings with others and hear about the experiences of other black women.

Why is the onus of addressing racism fall to the people that are being oppressed? How many books, articles, TED talks, Movies, TV shows, News articles, songs, blogs, youtube videos have to be created before white people start taking the initiative to  educate themselves about racism? How can a white person say "I didn't know" about racism when googling "how not be a racist" would literally produce thousands of places for you to start? Reni lays out these questions and more in her book. I finished the book feeling more committed than ever to speaking my truth and supporting people of colour. I'm also committing to putting my sanity first and not engaging with people that willfully remain ignorant about racism.

I firmly stand behind the idea that not learning about racism is a choice, unwillingness to engage in addressing racism also constitutes complicity in permitting racism to occur. I no longer have the energy to engage with people that believe "reverse racism" is a thing or that Megan Markle wasn't driven out of Britain because of the racist media. I want to sit with the adults at the Thanksgiving table and I'm tired of having the same conversations with people that choose to not be informed and have the luxury of never having to change... so do your homework and then you can talk with me. I do recognize that change is hard and takes time; I hope that by speaking my truth, empathy can be developed in those that don't have to experience the negative consequences of racism and help spur change. I'm tired, I get run down, sometimes I just don't want to fight the racism fight, this is an issue that can't remain silent...so I'll continue to speak.

Don't understand what I wrote or want to learn more...Why I'm No Longer Talking to White People About Race may be a place for you to start.

Angry Black Woman

Angry black woman... sisters have heard it, loathe it, and can't escape it. It doesn't matter how intelligent, funny, articulate, correct, polite a black woman is when she speaks, any kind of emotions is perceived as anger. Black girls are taught at a young age to be "non threatening" to their white peers. Don't talk too much, don't speak your mind, you're just a black girl and you need to learn you place in the larger caucasian society.

Ohh, I can just hear some of the people groaning and complaining that another black woman is "making everything about race". Damn right I'm making everything about my ethnic background;  I face the negative consequences of racim daily... several times a day... I'm freaking tired. My earliest memory of being called a nigger was in grade 4. Grade 4 and I'm already learning about hate, hate for the colour of my skin, hate for just existing.

The most insidious thing about hate is the toll it takes, a big ass toll. Over the past few years, I've been taking a lot of time to address the pain associated with being judged for the colour of my skin. How I wear my hair, my clothes, how I speak are all subtle reminders that I'm perceived as less than by others. I'm reminded that their approval means the difference between getting a good grade on an assignment, getting the new job, getting the loan or even not getting shot by the police. Everyday I walk a fine line, where the slightest misstep can result in a racist incident. Who am I kidding, me simply existing in white spaces leaves the door wide open for abuse. Careful, don't speak too passionately... they'll think you're angry and will stop listening to what you have to say. Smile, but not too much, be friendly and personable, but not too personable, speak your mind at your own risk.

Learning to address the impact hate was having on me, I had to reflect on how the labels associated with blackness have impacted the perception I had of myself. I wore the as I call it  my Bojangles mask for 37.25 hours a week...that's not including weekends, and evening hours when I'm out in public. Not because I wanted to, but because it was safer. God forbid I show any kind of emotion other than pure unadulterated joy... apparently it's the end of the world if I don't. I can't be tired, sad, frightened, nervous, worried, hell even angry. Any emotion I show other than "joy" is taken as anger. I became so good at wearing the mask that I wasn't taking it off. Part of me felt it was easier to just keep soldering on because tomorrow I'm up against the same fight.

I know what you're thinking... how do I know that what I'm saying is even true? I recognize to some degree that all people wear masks in different situations. I know that wearing booty shorts and twerking at work is not appropriate, fun, but not appropriate for the office. It's not only that I wear a mask, it's that I also have the added pressure of what my skin colour wrongfully implies about me. More often than not, I'm relegated to the stupid stereotypes of the "sassy black friend". You know the type, the finger snapping head wagging homegirl that you can't help trying out your new urban slang on.

Black women are not seen for the complexities that make us human. The media presents a certain type of blackness and more often than not, black women are forces to fit into a certain box that is familiar to white people. I grew up in Alberta, it shouldn't be a surprise that I can line dance,  or listened to country music. I'm a classically trained pianist, I like many things, I am more than just the stereotypes that society presents. The negative stereotypes associated with black women permeate our societies perception of who black women are. We are not afforded the same luxuries as our lighter skinned peers. We're perceived as angrier, more threatening, overly sexual, too opinionated, aggressive, and more dangerous even when we pose no threat.

Ugh, don't be an angry black woman... how can a black woman escape the label when everything we do or say is perceived as angry? It's a soul sucking paradox and I decided that I was getting off the crazy making wheel. I started to reflect on the word angry...am I angry? What makes me angry? Should I be angry? The dictionary defines anger as having "a strong feeling of or showing annoyance, displeasure, or hostility; full of anger". Well, I guess that's one word that could sum up the toll racism has taken on me, but anger doesn't even cut the surface.

Anger is a word that simplifies and  invalidates the experiences of black women. Racism infects all aspects of our society and black women are forced to navigate their own personal mircroaggressive minefields daily. Grocery shopping, buying a car, buying coffee, getting water from the office cooler can all be places where I can encounter racism. I've been followed in stores, pulled over by the police, passed over for promotions, silenced in meetings at many points in my life. 

 I thought that if I was the right kind of black girl, racism wouldn't impact me as badly. Oh how wrong I was, racism is always there like that one family member that shows up at your house unannounced. I was careful with the music I listened to...none of that "urban" music, because good black girls don't listen to that music. I watched the appropriate shows on tv, watched the right movies, all the things I thought that would make my blackness less threatening. Epic, epic fail! Guess what girl, they don't care what you listen to, what you watch, or how you act... you are black. You have been judged the minute they saw your flawlessly beat face.

I started educating myself on the issues associated with racism and making sure that I had informed opinions when I started to talk about the impact of racism with others. My crown was tilted, but reading, listening to TED talks, research articles, podcasts, and blogs all helped me to find my voice. Now, I'm not only armed with a whole new level of knowledge, I have evidence and the words to better explain my life experiences. Here's the kicker about learning, once you become aware, you can't look away. Injustice feels intolerable and remaining silent no longer is an option for me. 
So as I reflect, I need to be clear that I'm by no means an expert. I'm learning and growing and I know that I have so much more to learn about myself.  Being more honest isn't by any means easy, it comes with risks, being real means that you may lose people; you have to ask yourself tough questions. Part of being healthy for me is being able to experience my full range of emotions as everyone has the right to do.

At my wise sage age of 39, I think I'm coming to some enlightening revelations. I can do whatever the fuck I want, at the end of the day, I'm going to be judged whether I like it or not. Being the "respectful black girl" wasn't getting me the things I wanted in life. I had friends, I work, but I never felt like myself or fully understood in some circles. Some relationships I had, I tolerated because being alone is hard sometimes. I put up with the subtle racist comments,  the hair touching, not playing my "black music" when friends were in the car,  the "you're pretty for a black girl" statements, or the ever annoying "why do black people..." questions. This is life as a minority, or so I thought. The truest parts of myself were reserved for a select few that really knew me. Finding a safe space to talk was a key for me being able to look at how hate was impacting my life. The more I opened up, I realized that I wasn't alone and that other black women were as tired as I am. 

So back to that angry black woman question...damn right I'm angry! I'm angry that I'm judged by the colour of my skin. To know that I'm hated, implied to be less intelligent, less worthy of having basic human rights, or less worthy to be promoted. I'm frustrated that for some, they have the ability to be willfully ignorant to the fact that other people experience life in a very different way. I'm disappointed that in 2020, I know that women that look like me have poorer health outcomes, more likely to experience depression and anxiety, and more likely to abuse substances in order to cope with the impact of racism.

I'm disheartened that the speeches my parents gave me about how to interact with police/ authority figures, that people will judge you because of the colour of your skin, and that I'll need to work twice as hard to get half as much as a white person are all conversations that I will have with my children. Let me repeat that for the people in the back, I didn't type if I'm going to have these conversations, I said will. I will have these conversations several times, wipe away tears after my child is called a slur at school, explain that you will be passed over for jobs, told to "be quiet", told that you are less intelligent, called a monkey... I can keep going, but I think I've made my point.

I'm angry, I have a right to be. I refuse to bow to the idea that being angry is not something that black women should embrace. Anger is a normal emotion and can be a very appropriate response in situations. I refuse to give in to the ideas like I need to "toughen up", the ignorant "sticks and stone" mentality,  or not everything is about race. I'm tired of having my pain invalidated by people that have never lived with the negative consequences of racism. To those people that are skeptical of what I'm writing...don't believe me, go do your own research. I encourage people to read about intersectionality, and the impact of racism. Sometimes the right thing to do is call the sky blue. Sorry Carol, but as much as you want the sky to be fuchsia right now, the colour is blue... take a minute...accept it... 

Anger is not the only thing that defines me, despite what society might say. It's an attempt to downplay and belittle the experiences of black women. By learning to take self care seriously, I care for myself knowing that a well Princess can handle anything the haters can throw. By asking myself to define wellness and what wellness looks like in my life is a process. Self care is a journey and  I'm learning to reclaim the idea of what the angry black woman represents. To me, she is strong, beautiful, vulnerable, kind, intelligent, sad, happy, annoyed, overjoyed and yes angry as anyone else and can and should express herself.