I'm Not Alone; You're Not Alone
I’ve been tired and weepy but have still kept up the work of addressing the issue of racism. I’m feeling numb when I need to feel energized and up for the protest. I’m also angry that I have to do this work. It’s a daily job that is taking a toll on me. It’s emotionally exhausting. When people ask about the health effects of racism, it’s both mental, physical. It’s like a weight pressing down on my heart and soul. I’ve got to stay brave and upbeat but I’m tired.
I’m more scared for my sons. I’m asking my husband if they’ve texted that they arrived safely. I check to see if they’ve arrived home safely after going out at night. It’s like when they were infants and I’d go into their rooms to check that they were still breathing. They are no longer infants. They are grown men and I’m still scared that they will stop breathing.
“I can’t breathe,” haunts me. I want my sons to keep breathing. So I continue to do the work. I continue in my own ways to fight racism. It’s not fair that I have to do this. It’s not fair that parents of Black children worry each and every day for the safety of their children. It’s not fair that there are systems that continue to undermine the lives of Black people.
I find myself waking up at night, questioning if I should continue the discussion about racism and talking about race because it’s so heavy and a reminder of my fears. How can I do the work if I’m always scared? I can talk to others about my fear but I know they also feel it.
“I can’t breathe,” is the ultimate metaphor of living Black in America. Systems created to choke hold us into submission and resign to the fact that as long as we live here, we know who’s in control. See the tactic is called intimidation with the outcome to induce fear and complacency. For if you try to fight back, more pressure is applied, more restrictions of our rights until we either die or overcome the force. The force feels so heavy. It feels as though it’s winning.
How many news stories are focused on the Black Lives Matters protests? I haven’t counted but what I see now is the pivot back to discussions of the rise of Coronavirus cases. The same pandemic that disproportionately affects Black people. My colleagues have written wonderful pieces about the impact of racism leading to the disproportionate COVID 19 cases and deaths in Black people. Many of these colleagues are Black. They are sounding the alarms and exposing injustices. The pressure is easing. Each work of evidence that unmasks the enforcers of the choke hold releases a little bit of pressure. We breathe easier for a moment.
I’m still tired, weary and worn. I’m still fearful but not the type of fear that’s causing me to flee. I’m catching my second wind so that I can fight. Just enough pressure has been released for me to breathe again. My head gets clearer as the oxygen flows back to my brain. See in the state of the choke hold, it’s hard to focus and see clearly. You start to think about the end and that there’s no way out of this. You begin to lose hope but as the oxygen comes back, it’s different. There’s a way out. Hope returns and so does the will to keep fighting back. There’s a vision that the pressure will continue to be released and that you’re not alone. A reminder that I’m not alone.
So, for the other parents raising Black children, you are not alone. There are others out there resisting the negativity and systems of oppression that are working against us and our children. We must remember that we must support one another. The struggle will be long. It’s been over 400 years, to date. We need allies. We need everyone in this fight against the plague of racism.