If you had told me a few years ago that I’d be sitting down writing this post today, my anxiety would’ve been through the roof. I probably would’ve given off a nervous laugh and thought no way. Hell, part of me maybe still feels this way as I sit here writing this now. But I know that this issue and this post are bigger than me. They’re so much bigger than me, my family, my friends…and so today I’m pushing myself to put into words everything that’s been on my mind over the past couple weeks. But if I’m being real, it’s more like the last 27 years. This is my story, about finding my voice as a black woman in America in the 21st century.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve strived to make others feel comfortable. I’m not entirely sure where it comes from—my need to make others comfortable over myself, but I recognize that I do it and it’s something I’ve been working on. Making space for myself and my own comfort. Anyway, this habit of mine has lead me to minimize my blackness and tip-toe around hard things like racism. That ends now. I’m done making others feel comfortable at the expense of myself and at the risk of having hard conversations. Truthfully, I don’t care anymore. Be uncomfortable. Growth happens outside of our comfort zones.
Growing up in and around Philadelphia, PA all my life allotted me the privilege of not being as outwardly discriminated against as my peers in other parts of the country (or even other parts of Pennsylvania). Instead, I was subjected to a lot of microaggressions, a word I didn’t even know existed until a few years ago. Microaggressions are defined as “indirect, subtle, or unintentional discrimination against members of a marginalized group.” For me, they came in the form of being followed or looked at funny in certain stores; being told how articulate I am and how surprising that seemed to the person telling me; being called an “oreo” (you know, black on the outside, white on the inside); and backhanded compliments from girls I cheered with like “You’re such a pretty black girl, Kacie!” or “You’re my brown friend!”
Yes. People really fixed their mouths to say things like that to me, out loud. *insert straight face emoji*
And I’d laugh it off! I’d nod along and laugh and smile with the group even though a part of me somewhere inside felt…icky? Felt alienated. But I took it and internalized it all because I didn’t know what else to do. My school district was predominantly white, in the suburbs of Philly. I was surrounded by white people all day, everyday and the last thing I wanted to do was make anyone uncomfortable with me because of the color of my skin. I didn’t want to alienate myself and risk not “fitting in” or fall into the stereotype of the Angry Black Woman. So I didn’t say anything at all.
This continued into my college years. I attended school at the University of Miami, and though I found myself in a diverse city, with a group of mainly black friends and eventually joined a historically black sorority, I don’t think I really started to lean into my blackness until Trayvon Martin was shot and killed in South Florida in February 2012. Friendly reminder, Trayvon was a 17 year old black boy, murdered by a self-righteous, racist man for walking home wearing a hoodie and “looking suspicious.” TLDR: he was murdered for being black. And it’s like something about his senseless murder and the injustice surrounding it, finally flipped a switch in me.
I think I finally realized that this country is NOT as just as it says it is. And since then, after countless other black people were murdered in cold blood by police officers, ex-police officers and the like, with no repercussions for those murders, I had to realize that racism is nowhere near over, as our school system would like to teach kids that it is. And that’s the kicker for me. That’s why I had to take a long walk the day I learned about George Floyd’s murder, sit under a tree in my favorite park, and just cry. I cried for my people and the injustice we’ve faced and continue to face even today in this big year of 2020. I cried because there are people in this world who will never understand what it’s like to be black in America, and they don’t have to. I cried because there are people out there who hate me and those who look like me simply because of the color of our skin. And I cried because my life has felt like a big old fat lie.
When we learned about the Civil Rights Movement and slavery and all of those hard topics in history class year after year, it always was taught in a way that made it seem like it was a past issue. Like, thank God slavery and racism are over. Thank God we’ve come so far as a society and country. Well, in my opinion, we haven’t come all that far. While I’m thankful that black people are no longer literal slaves and that segregation is technically a thing of the past, we still have a LONG way to go as a society. Black Americans are still not treated equally across the country. Thanks to systemic racism and institutions that were never meant to serve us, we’ve been impoverished, trapped in ghettos, racially profiled, incarcerated at alarming rates, discriminated against, and even murdered in the streets by the very people who are supposed to protect us. We have a LONG way to go, America. This isn’t the post-racial society we’ve been taught to believe it is. If George Floyd and Breonna Taylor and so many others’ murders don’t tell you that, I don’t know what will.
So, where do we go from here?
I don’t have the solution to this years old problem. Racism and discrimination began hundreds of years ago and to think that this blog post or a black square on Instagram could change all of that would be silly. But I do think that we are onto something. People have protested for Black Lives Matter and Justice for George Floyd across all 50 states and dozens of countries around the world. One good thing about social media is that in this case it has helped to amplify the cries of black people. It has shown us that our cries aren’t falling on deaf ears and the worldwide protests are evidence of that.
After over a week of protests, the four officers involved in George Floyd’s murder have been charged. And though the charges don’t exactly fit the crime as severely as I’d hoped, this is still an improvement and promising development. But the work doesn’t end here. Countless other murderers (let’s call them what they are) are still free (the officers who murdered Breonna Taylor in her sleep, to name a few). Police brutality is still very much an issue and we need reform NOW.
We also need to keep the conversation going. Talking about police brutality, racism in our country, injustices we see in day to day life, are just some of the conversations that need to continue to be had in our homes and our communities. It isn’t enough to be an activist for a week and then move on to our regularly scheduled programming. This fight is only just beginning and we cannot let up on the gas.
For me, I’ve been thinking a lot about what this means for my content and how I can best use my voice as a content creator. A black female content creator, at that. And I’ve decided that I will start to post my typical content again, and that every post doesn’t need to be so heavy. However, I will make sure that I also create space for more meaningful content each week. Highlighting black-owned businesses to support, showcasing more black creators to follow, and continuing to spread awareness on the issues black people face are just a few ways that I plan to continue this movement.
I’m excited for this development in my content and this growth within myself. I’m excited to have more meaningful conversations and hopefully make a difference in this world, because it needs it. Make sure you’re following along on Instagram and Twitter so you don’t miss out, and I’d love to hear your thoughts on everything and what more you’d like to see from me. Black Lives Matter, and I’ll be damned if the world doesn’t start to act like it.
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