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.