I'm exhausted
I've got to keep on pushing
I can't stop now
Move up a little higher
Some way, somehow- From “Keep on Pushing”, The Impressions
My body is exhausted, and my mind is exhausted, and my emotions have swelled past a point that my heart can possibly contain and manage. I am mourning people that I do not know, for a crime that I share - being Black in America. I have seen videos and stills of Black bodies under the knees and under the guns of those that use their power to dehumanize and break down people who were just living their lives, jogging, sleeping, watching birds, and so many invisible crimes known only to those who wish to destroy my people.
Every body on our timelines was a life. A human life that deserved to feel joy and acceptance. A life snuffed out because someone could not fathom a world where a Black person (and other people of color) is considered just as human, just as entitled to live as they are. How dare a Black man have the curiosity to look at a house under construction or watch birds? How dare a woman assume that she is safe in her own home, and can have the luxury of sleeping by the man she loved without cops mistaking her home for another, and then shooting first and asking questions later. How dare this Trans Man have the audacity to live his life how he chooses, and even in death have the expectation that he wouldn’t be misgendered. These people are dead. We can’t get them back. We will never know what mark they would have made on the world if they were just allowed to live. We will never know about the art they’ve created, the people they would have helped, the good they could have done. We’ll never know that because, in 8 seconds, they become just another body on the news, watched by people who shake their heads and say, “Well, I wish I could do something, but maybe if she had listened this wouldn’t have happened.” before moving on to another day of ignoring systemic racism and injustice.
But you can do something. This is where I address the White people in my life directly - you are in the position to use your privilege to HELP US LIVE. Stand up when you see someone being harassed. Allow us to express our opinions in meetings. Stop seeing our passion as aggression. HIRE US. Invest in our businesses and creative endeavors. Cast us in your shows. Help us advance in a professional world where a name that is in any way “ethnic” usually gets thrown into the rejects pile. Learn about your privilege and know that it exists. Read about the generational trauma that prevents Black people (and again, other people of color) from having the same advantages you do. Do the work, read about more than what is included in our shamefully tiny Black history curriculum that hasn’t changed since the ’80s. Black people are expected to run the same race as you from five paces behind, and it’s exhausting. We have to work twice as hard for half as much, only to be silenced by our co-workers, passed up for raises and promotions, or passed over for honors that we deserve.
We are a vibrant and beautiful people, who have something to say and something to add to our society. But we just need a chance to make that impact without the assumption that we are reaching higher than our place. We have voices that deserve to be included in television writing rooms, executive boards, C-Suites, and political offices. Let us contribute more than what is convenient for you.
This post shouldn’t even be necessary. I’m angry that I even have to write something to convince you that you should respect and recognize my humanity. I’m angry that people that I respected stand up for the hatred and evil coming out of the White House under the guise of loving our nation. I am angry about the 53% of White women who blindly voted for Trump because “he says what he means”, or he’s going to protect innocent babies, but turn their heads when he brags about sexual assault or disrespects the Black people in their communities. I am angry at people who refuse to see that the America they want to return was one that kept Black people, women, indigenous people, and Queer people in a place of submission and silence. I’m angry that our president encourages hate crimes, hate speech, and destruction of our very moral fiber, and these people just stand there and let it happen. I’m angry that here we are AGAIN. AGAIN. Black people are being killed and beaten and arrested with impunity because there are people in positions of power that just don’t care, and our peers would rather do nothing than speak up.
There are White people in my life that get it. I can count on them to have my back, speak up for me, and give me the floor so that my voice is heard. They stand beside us and proclaim our rights and humanity to those that need to hear it. Those people know who they are. They are not the problem. The White people that ARE the problem also know that they are the problem, but are too cowardly to do the work and learn from and about us. We see you. the Black people in your life see your social media posts, hear about your jokes, and have to put up with your sabotage. We see it, and we are tired. We are tired but don’t even have the luxury to take a pause and breathe and grieve. We don’t have the time. The time has come for you to step up. It’s uncomfortable, but imagine how uncomfortable it is to be a victim of your Nana or Pop-Pop’s racism. It sucks, but it’s necessary work.
To our allies, we also see you. We see your passionate defense on your social media feeds, we see your donations to causes and bailout funds. We see you buying from Black business owners. We see you hiring voices that are different from your own. We see you, and we thank you. It can’t be easy standing up to people in your life, but the fact that you even try is noted and appreciated.
I’m tired and sad and overwhelmed with all of this. I’ve shed tears almost every day. I’m stretched to the breaking point from fear and rage and sadness, and I just need a break, if only so I can wake up tomorrow and continue to make my way in a world that has decided that I don’t deserve a seat at the table. I’m exhausted.
