Maybe I need to step away and give myself a break. A break from what, one may ask? A break from life. However, it’s impossible to give myself a break because I am a wife, a toddler mom, and an overthinking black woman in her late 20’s with hustle. Too much hustle that I sometimes do not give myself enough credit, grace, or time to just take in my efforts. There's so much pressure that comes with the desire of wanting to be a successful black woman.
 |
| Photo by Koshu Kunii on Unsplash |
The last two weeks have been substantial. Heavy among the chests pounding with grief and anger as I saw a video of police officers kneeling with demonstrators taking part in protests sparked by the killing of George Floyd. It was tagged under “This is how change begins,” I felt triggered. I felt mental clips loading within a 9mm handgun that my spirit grabbed in the protection of my future self.
I knew that none of this would have happened if those same cops had been willing to take a knee four years ago when Colin Kaepernick took it publicly. I thought about how they could have help mold and uplift an era of radical reform of the way we are policed in America instead of deeming the nonviolent gesture un-American.
The pandemic brought along its own trails and issues for the past three months. Many of us black Americans, no matter the area, were living in hypervigilance and anxiety, coping with feelings of uncertainty, fear, and vulnerability. Social media started feeling unsafe, scattered with videos and photos of greed and rudeness. Just a few weeks ago, countless people watched in despair over Mr. Floyd’s death as it filled our feeds, televisions, and conversations with others.
 |
| Photo by Maria Oswalt on Unsplash |
I was in tears and even shouted, “Hell yeah” once I decided to create a comparison from Dec. 4, 2014. Four months before Eric Garner died at the hands of a police officer on Staten Island, the number of tweets tagged with #BlackLivesMatter peaked at 146,000.
There’s strength in numbers, and the #BlackLivesMatter movement has blossomed and is untouchable. Over the past week, I have read so many ignorant and racist comments from people on Facebook that I felt drained and inraged all at the same time. Going outside my home for some fresh air no longer felt relieving. I don’t drink like a guppy like I use to, but I had to pour myself a glass a wine from my stash and sign out of my Facebook account for a day or two.
I learned these past two weeks that my blood pressure still rises as I tolerance for bullshit is tried. On a lighter note here in New Orleans, there has been peacefully protesting. When compared to many of the other big cities in the U.S., there has been no rioting, no looting, just great protesting with a few mishaps from the police with tear gas and rubber bullets. Overall, I am still sane. I have taken time to recharge and disconnect from social media and the news. I have taken the time to unpack my emotions into journal entries.
I’ve tried not to emotionally eat, but I gave in because I refused to drink another glass of wine. It felt suitable for while it lasted, and now I am back working out. My growth these past two weeks has been liberating. I don’t want to give in to the emotions of becoming an angry black woman with an untamed thought process. I want to be gentle with myself and become more mindful of what I mentally and physically ingest.
Black Lives Matter always has and always will in all ways. Through it all, I am going to let my light radiate, and my truth bring a glimmer of hope. If you stand for the rights of my black and brown people, thank you! It’s a beautiful, unmatched struggle for all people color and always has been.
Feel free to share your thoughts with me on this blog post as well. I am always open to conversation.
Add your comment