This black woman is tired

The past two weeks have been emotionally charged for Americans, but it’s been particularly heavy for black and brown folks in America. In the span of 7 days, we have re-lived the horrible events of Summer 2020 with the George Floyd trial, watched a uniformed member of the military get the civilian black man treatment from the police without any evidence of provocation, and we learned that a 13-year-old complied with officers’ commands only to lose his life within seconds of compliance. That’s not even mentioning the rise in local gun violence going on in cities across the country, or the unrelenting cases of domestic and sexual abuse at home, or the countless lives being upended by the Covid-related deaths, job loss, or disconnections from our normal support systems.

Many of us have been taught to put on our big-girl/big-boy pants and keep it pushing. The analogy for putting our emotions to the side and charging ahead with life, refusing to let life or the circumstances it presents get the best of us. The premise is simple enough but let me tell you something: I’ve tried that. And, this week, I’m tired.

I’m tired of being told to suck it up. I’ve run out of room to “suck up” anything more. I’ve grown tired of the persistent news and threat of death. Tired of being so scared to leave my house that I’m voluntarily self-quarantining from life itself. Tired of risking any interactions with white neighbors that I don’t know that well enough for fear of them calling the cops on me for simply existing in a space that I pay rent to be in. Tired of the idea that my brothers, uncles, male friends, and loved ones may not make it home because someone somewhere thought they “looked” like a threat. I’m tired of thinking that every report of gun violence may have claimed someone that I know and praying for the relief of finding out that it didn’t. I’m tired of grieving with the sisters who did lose someone and whose pain I feel deeply; a pain I internalize and identify with as though it was my own despite not knowing her or her kin.

And I’m really tired of people, some who look like me and others who don’t, putting on blinders intentionally because they don’t want to see the reality of the issues we’re facing. The ones who pretend as if they can’t see the double standards that exist like a big-assed elephant in front of all of our faces. The ones who go out of their way to find excuses for inexcusable behaviors, rationale for situations that defy logic, and alternatives for facts that are singular. I’m tired. My mind, my soul, my nervous system…are all tired.

I’ve reached the point where the usual platitudes and comforting words have become hollow. They don’t offer me comfort or solace. They really don’t offer me shit. I now question the motives of people who offer these things. I now search for more depth in your intentions: if you really feel sorry, talk to me about what you’ve been doing to change the status quo? If you’re really praying for better days, what have you been inspired to do to ensure those days actually materialize? If you really feel my pain, what have you been doing to stop the next person from needlessly experiencing it too?

Just yesterday, I was sitting in a car in my urban neighborhood visiting with a friend who I hadn’t seen in over six months. Parking is limited on my busy city street, so we briefly idled in front of a garage space. A non-pigmented neighbor was exiting her garage, we were sure to leave her area clear so she wouldn’t have an issue with where we were parked. She felt that she needed more room to exit and decided to start yelling at us that we “gotta leave” because she had something in her garage that made it difficult for her to turn her vehicle and exit her garage.

Was she civil to us? No. She yelled at us the whole time. Did she see us before she entered her car? Yes, a full 10 minutes prior. Never said a word. Could she have exited her garage without us moving? Yes. She did exactly that after we moved. She backed straight out of her garage and onto the roadway, where we were waiting. Did she create a scene? Yes. She was yelling so loudly that her husband and kids came to the window, and passersby stopped to observe. Did my friend and I say anything in response? No. We complied. We are both black. She is Muslim and I’m Christian. And we had a small child in the car with us.

What struck me most? The fact that both of us expected her to call the police on us and expected that if she didn’t, someone observing us would. We both feared what the outcome could be, not because we were doing anything wrong, but because we wouldn’t be given the benefit of doubt. And because we didn’t capitulate to the entitlement. Yet, we complied anyway. For the sake of peace. For the sake of life. For the sake of our sanity…because we were both tired.