The most disrespected person in America is the Black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the Black woman. The most neglected person in America is the Black woman. The most policed person in the World is the Black young girl.
Young Black girls all over the world are often policed by strangers, neighbors, church members, teachers, and their own families. Black girls are policed on how to do their hair, what to wear, and their weight. We are never given the option to exist freely. There is always a system in place to remind us to be “humble”. We have to be humbled by those for being confident and lacking the confidence that they wish they had.
For as long as I can remember there was always an adult, whether it was in church or at school, that felt the need to humble me. This wasn’t discipline, this was attacking my confidence and reminding me that no matter where I wanted to find joy, I always had to shrink myself to be welcomed.
Read MoreBut liberal racists look nothing like that these days. They smile at you with big, bright, and seemingly accepting eyes. They wear the same hoop earrings, Frenchbraids, and Obama bumper sticker as you do. They call you presumptively endearing names like bro or sis when feeling a little spicy... They say please and thank you in docile tones...afraid of rustling feathers. They come into your communities as “well doers'', “missionaries “and “fixers”. They look at you uneasy and adjust themselves when you enter a space that they thought was safe and was away from you.
Read MoreLast week, I had to explain to my mom that I do not date because I am invisible.
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I want to dare you to think not only about the Black women in need of a safe space, but the Black children exploring for one too.
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This question is on the top of Black women’s minds every time they decide to start exercising more.
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Colorism isn’t a new topic nor a new issue within the Black Community. Colorism is truly an international problem as lighter skin is almost universally valued among all racial groups. It is, simply defined by Alice Walker, the “prejudicial or preferential treatment of same-race people based solely on their color.”
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Yall, in case you missed it our girl is finally out from under the gorilla glue helmet thanks to Dr. Michael Obeng who did the pro bono surgery to help her out. If you have been living under a rock, Tessica Brown took to TikTok not talk about the cuteness of her hairstyle and how she achieved the look, perso, but was instead talking about her style, laid to the gawds was a product of gorilla glue and had been her style (of not her choice) for well over a month!
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As living alone during the pandemic continues, reading has become almost impossible because my mind is filled with so much noise--years of buried trauma, guilt, and shame working its way upward.
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“Mommy, I want a blonde braid so I can be pretty” my daughter said. “You want a what?” I said with a slight cringe in my voice. “A braid like Elsa” she replied. This statement took me off guard and immediately led to me having a conversation with my then 5 year old.
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I remember hearing this while listening to a podcast called, “The Secret Lives of Black Women” and they interviewed a high spirited, fun-loving, eclectic, and passionate singer by the name of Tarriana “Tank” Ball. She discussed how surrounding herself with people who spoke life into her craft, believed in her, and supported her was fundamental in life and her career as an artist.
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Years ago, I knew myself. When I was a child, I felt solid and still. I felt like me. I didn’t care about facades or about wearing the kind of mask Paul Laurence Dunbar wrote about in his poem “We Wear The Mask”. In his poem, he wrote about the mask our ancestors wore to survive, assimilate, and cope with being members of the marginalized race. As I grew in age, I ironically regressed in wisdom and adopted a persona akin to the mask Paul Laurence Dunbar wrote about in his poem. Hints of this mask appeared in my life in many ways; among them, my physical appearance.
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Beyonce’s much anticipated visual album was released for streaming on Disney+ on July 31, 2020. (Isn’t everything Beyonce does “much anticipated”?) Anyway, as usual I was late to the party and finally sat down to watch it this weekend.
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“So, how are you going to wear your hair to your interview?”
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Alopecia. Just typing the word still gives me chills. It’s as if my body has a visceral reaction to reject the diagnosis, because it seems so...permanent.
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Mental health is such a hush-hush conversation in the black community that when you do try to talk about it, it’s like you said a bad word. I can see it now, you come in from school with a grimace on your face and the first thing mama says is “girl, you better straighten up that face before you come in here! What’s wrong with you?” When you try to explain that you had a bad day, the response was often, “Ain’t nothing wrong with you. What you got to worry ‘bout, you’re just a child?”
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In my practice, I am privileged to be able to work alongside Black womxn on their journeys of healing and self-discovery. I think we can admit that Black womxn are in fact magical. We are literally able to do all the things, all the time. We have a certain glow, a mixture of both strength and softness. We are able to get things done, in spite of. And with that magic comes decades of pain. See being a Black womxn, is an interesting place of intersectionality where we are required to think about how both our race (read: racism) and gender (read: patriarchy) shapes our life experiences.
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