Being Black Is Lit

But the price we pay is expensive as f&*k

*Please be mindful as you read, there is violence in this post. I share it with heaviness as we are already overwhelmed with it in our world. With that said, I believe it’s important that these stories are acknowledged as this is the history our country is built on.

The first comment I read on LinkedIn today was a man telling me to quit playing the race card and go back to Africa.

Dope, lemme talk about race even more.

The financial Black tax is real.

However, today I want to talk about the emotional Black tax.

I recently took Nico (the traumatized rescue pup) for a bath. I live in Ohio. There are plenty of spaces here that aren’t welcoming to my folks. I felt the coldness the moment I walked in. My hope was that they would care for my pup even if they didn’t care for my presence.

They weren’t overtly hateful but they weren’t kind either. My negro spirit can always tell when the care isn’t there.

After his second pitiful yelp, I took my sweet boy and got him out of there.

This type of trash encounter happens frequently.

And nah, I didn’t just leave and let it go.

-I was stressed out for the rest of the afternoon.
-My already overloaded nervous system was pushed to the limit.
-I was angry that this is the society I live in and that people are fine with it.

I don’t need an ally who has read every anti-racism book.
I need white folks who are pissed and ready to flip tables.

And please know that this is a MINOR interaction.

Don’t get me started on hospital visits.

-Did you know that I have to make sure I’m dressed a certain way with my hair done (no bonnets or head wraps) to help my chances of being taken seriously?

-Or, that when I lived in the Adirondacks, I drove two hours outside of town to go to a different hospital because I noticed one too many “blue lives matter” and MAGA bumper stickers in the parking lot? (To be clear, one. One is enough.)

-And that there are medical professionals IN THE YEAR 2023 who continue to believe that Black people don’t feel pain? Which means that 1) our pain is dismissed or 2) they do things to cause us more pain, such as using larger gauge needles.

Ask me how I know this.

I can only imagine the impact these experiences have had on my emotional, physical and spiritual health.

When I say I’m tired, this is what I mean.

Folks in white sheets have never bothered me. Do you, boo. I know exactly where you stand when it comes to the value of my life. It’s the nurses, doctors, police, judges and teachers who are supposed to care about our humanity that terrify me.

I recently watched a TikTok where an elderly white man in his 90’s and a young Black truck driver had a brief exchange in a diner. The elderly man was celebrating his birthday with family. As the truck driver was preparing to leave, he noticed that the man was momentarily alone and headed over to wish him well. “Happy birthday, what a full life you’ve had. I bet you have some stories.” To which the elderly man replied “actually, I do. I was a firefighter back in the 60’s and 70’s. It was different time back then.” He then goes on to confess (why, why do people do this?) how he and the other firefighters openly didn’t make an effort to save Black people. He recounted how he heard children scream and, gave no damns.

I’M SORRY BUT, WHAT? I’m traumatized just typing those words.

The younger man was horrified and backed away speechless.

Sprinkle in the violence of capitalism and generational trauma

and it’s no wonder why so many Black women are exhausted.

I’m outta here to figure out how to move my little family to Mexico with a negative bank account because this? This ain’t it.

#investinblackrest