I’m an angry black woman, in fact I am furious.
People keep asking me how I am coping with this time of civil unrest and it blows my mind.
250,000 Americans dead from COVID.
A sitting President of a democracy refusing to concede.
Extended Social isolation.
And all of this would be utterly terrifying if I hadn’t been living the last twenty three years of my life learning how to navigate the world wounded.
My race and gender have done me no favors in this eurocentric society and for many marginalized communities our struggles are resigned to mere myth and legend of the past.
They say people are finally waking up.
They say people are finally seeing my humanity.
But when you ask me how I’m doing, I must question how much you actually see.
Many allies want to weep with me now.
Many allies want to march with me now.
Many allies are overwhelmed with the weight of this nation’s sins
And are ready to share the burden with me now
400 years brutalizing the black body
400 years of exploitation
400 years of subjugation that changes with the time
400 years carrying this weight…
And you ask me how I am coping
As if pain and turmoil is foreign to me?
As if my pain threshold was screaming to return back to a kinder normal…
(Painting info: Blue Monday by Annie Lee)