Monday, July 20, 2015

When Race and Gender exhausts you

There are moments when being a woman and being Black can make you want curl up in the corner and yell, "I surrender!" or "I give the f***k up!" These moments can come when you walk into Home Depot in the suburbs and are followed as if you are going to run off with the ceramic tile or when you watch the news to see one more Black church burned to the ground or one more Black woman arrested and sent home in a body bag because of an alleged suicide. When Serena Williams wins yet another victory and her body is vilified in the mainstream media. Or you read a book about welfare and Black women from the 1950s and realize quickly how much it looks and sounds like 2015.

The stigma that follows me on social media when articles are written about failed Black relationships and every Black man and every Black woman starts pointing fingers. Let us be real. If there were so many successful Black relationships to point to then statistically, I would be witness to at least 1 out of 4 examples in my own life and not 1 out of 10. So let us all stop crying a river and start dealing in truth and facts, instead of fear and lies. Healing can only start when brokenness is recognized and not ignored or apologized for.

I am a Food Stamp and Medicaid recipient despite my two degrees and sharp intellect. Welfare is for survival since when I walk into the classroom I only make $100 per day and get paid less than $1200 per class to work at a university or college. The struggle is real, and I do not need shame and exhaustion to be piled on top of everything else. I subcontract for clients who may or may not pay me on time or at all. And each time, I think I am getting a bit of fresh air to breathe something else happens.

So here is the truth. Black women are at times loud, boisterous, and blunt. We suffer no fools and we do not have time to be sent on a goose chase. But, this is what makes us beautiful and unfortunately targets. We do not have time to make you feel better about your white privilege or guilt, and at times we do not have the energy to save every Black man and child we come across. Because there are moments that we need a safety net, a rope, a hug, a smile, and encouragement just so that we can see tomorrow. Mental illness and suicide rates among Black women is ridiculously high and never discussed in Black circles or any circles for that matter. Being Black and being a woman is a metaphysical dilemma I haven't conquered yet. "Where there is woman, there is magic." (Ntozake Shange)

And there is no room on this page to write about the complexities and energies it takes to be a Black female artist in a space that is dedicated to rendering you invisible. Rendering ME invisible. I will not go down without a fight, but this time the battle is too much, too repetitive, too exhausting, and too absent of common courtesy and love. And that will always be the problem.