I Am Tired
Few things have been more pivotal to my growth than the peace, advice, and support of black women. It is essential to my health and wellness. Yet, despite the deeply talented black women around me I experience an ever present issue: the black man.
Let's be clear: not all black men. I have to get that disclaimer out of the way early before my comments and email are loaded with people explaining to me that I have just had "a few bad experiences" or that I am "petty and divisive". I can have petty tendencies-- flaws I am working on-- but this moment is not born of my petty bone. These are lived experiences. It is not every black man, but the truth is that these realities apply to more than enough to hold true. I have been burdened by the patriarchy, nonsense, and antics of the problematic black man since before my birth.
More recently, in my college career, my experiences with black men have become more and more taxing, traumatic, and tragic. Honestly, I am fed up with fighting for my right to be apologetically black and woman. I cannot divorce my identities from one another-- I am an intersectional beauty. My compounded identities, of blackness and womanness, however, place me at a difficult crossroads. In the words of my black woman ancestors: all the women are white, all the blacks are men, but some of us are brave. Living as a black woman requires a tremendous amount of bravery. It is a dangerous endeavor to live as one of the most oppressed, silenced, and appropriated groups in human history.
The fact remains that the intersectionality of black womanhood means that we are often left fighting for the liberation of others with little reciprocity. On one hand, white women, adorning the privileges of whiteness, cannot be reliable allies in the fight for equity until they begin to confront their white supremacy. On the other hand, black man, covered in the privileges of maleness, cannot be reliable allies in the fight for equity until they begin to confront their patriarchy.
Essentially, black men must confront their complicit reality: you hurt us too. The hardships of black womanhood do not only apply to our blackness. We are victims of patriarchy as well. Thus, we must address both oppressions.
A simple start: listen to black women and act accordingly. It is not enough to engage in cyclical conversations. I am not in the business of re-traumatizing myself so that black men can feel better. Black men must do the labor too. Open a book, read a blog, watch a video. The proof, the stories, and the statistics are all over. Libraries and internet catalogs are full of the lived experiences of black women who have been confronting these atrocities for decades.
Black women cannot (and will not) continue to be everyone's saviors. Our mental and physical health does not afford us such luxuries. We are being suspended, fired, murdered, and assaulted at catastrophic rates. We have led the revolution for everyone else. Who will stand for us?
