I Am Not Your Token Black

As an American child, I was taught to pledge my allegiance to a flag. A flag I had no clue worked tirelessly against the freedoms of Black people from the highest institutions governing the quality of our lives to the teen profusely using the N word, because it’s in rap music while proudly supporting the red, white, and blue.

The education I received marketed as historical truth informed me for fifteen years who the heroes were. In the stories of America, there are definitive colors for saviors and villains; good vs. evil, white over black, civilized over savagery. In each story, we were taught the colonists had no other choice but to tame Black and Indigenous people to maintain freedom. Months were dedicated to the recycled story of good pilgrims trading for land. How the tales were taught in history, this was a benefit to our ancestors.

The Good Negro

By the time graduation arrives, it’s clear where you belong in the equation of American society and you’re shown in order to be equal, you have to achieve more, be upstanding, work harder, do not disrupt the status quo; in other words do not bring your identify, culture, or need of representation to the table. Be a good negro. The good negro does not question authority, accepts the oppression as a struggle, and suffers through violence.

This bleeds into the fabric of how Black women are accepted socially in the United States. Enslaved Black women were the caregivers of their own families and forced to extend themselves to take care of the families who bought them or bred them for profit. This resulted in generational and intentional oppression used to harm Black women; minimize their well-being, painting them as not needing protection because they are too strong, dominating, and can take the most abuse.

Often the abuse was caused by the hands of white women who saw themselves as superior and used the pursuit of women’s rights to further oppress, exclude Black women from the conversation, and participate in white patriarchal supremacy. Personally, I have experienced white women trying to exert dominance over me in friendships, in my career, and social settings. When I did not allow it, there were tears, blame, and insults towards me for not accepting their anti-Black behavior, words, and actions. Historically, accepting the complacency of white women in the fight for any form of equality causes harm to Black women who are expected to overlook the disparities of Black people in the fight for their gender.

Adding the layers of racism with a global pandemic it is evident who cares about Black women on an individual and systemic level. So here we are, amid a global pandemic taking hundreds of thousands of lives, experiencing collective grief of losing people who make our family, friendships, and community while facing centuries of racism at our foundation.

I Am Not Your Token Black

In the last seven months of quarantine, I had to quit fighting myself by letting go of the habits that come with being the good negro everyone grew to know and love. I had to accept people wanting access to me does not equate to people fighting for my right to exist. I allowed myself to be a token in many situations so I was not left out or alone.

But to be the token Black is a heavy load.

It is labeled aggression when I am angry and overreacting when I am upset. People want my comfort but do not want to understand why I am in pain. As a result of not understanding my identity, I bottled up feelings, allowed one-sided relationships, experienced abuse at work, let others tell me how to feel, and told myself it didn’t matter if the people in my life are complacent. But it is an empty feeling to not know your identity and feel grounded in it.

The truth is, I am unapologetically Black. I am no longer interested in watering down myself to feel loved or understood, to be accepted. I know who I am and what I value. Going through a healing process of existing in a world fueled by anti-Blackness while surviving a global pandemic has changed me. The person I was before is not the same person I am now.

My requirements for the closest people in my life are for them to be actively anti-racist and accomplices. It is a lifetime work, long past the other side of COVID and the election. In a society where I have to deal with anti-Black micro-aggressions from online to work, glares and dirty looks from strangers on walks during my lunchbreak, the fear of being shot or attacked, yells and taunts from whites supremacists while driving, and witness our highest leader giving domestic terrorists the green light to harm people fighting for rights we supposedly had a birth if things don’t go their way, I can’t nurture people sleeping at the wheel or snoozing. The folks I want around me are secure in their identity and accept the long, continuous fight for the equality. Anything less is requiring me to live inauthentically and reverting is not an option.

Black Women Deserve Better

I have existed in many relationships where I had to preserve the feelings of others in response to my discomfort or real fear. After 25 years in predominantly white spaces, I learned there are people who will accept you, but only you. Most will dance around conversations of race in rare occasions, uncomfortable or dismissive they find ways to advert the conversation usually by taking offense. Or they bully their way through explosively not realizing the damage caused to your supposed connection. But it makes you feel like you can’t express yourself casually and frequently, because they do not understand how their racial identity shapes the experiences you share. The acceptance offered comes with unspoken parameters of who they want you to be, but it goes against your feelings, your existence.

Colors exist, colors are beautiful on their own and together. To say anything different is choosing willful ignorance. The I see no color, is the quickest way to deny we have differences, disparities, experiences, and history.

I am not begging to be understood anymore.

I do not put the feelings of others before the lives of Black women, including my own anymore.

I cannot accept anything less than actively riding hard for the equality of all Black people and everyone harmed by white supremacy anymore.

This unlearning experience of questioning, being honest with myself, and protecting my joy has impacted me in ways I could not imagine. By accepting myself, I have had deeper conversations, feel empowered to say no, and feel a sense of purpose bigger than myself.

I want better for Black women, past, present, and future. I am taking action loudly and quietly. I am using my voice in every space I am in. In my lifetime I do not expect to see astounding changes to centuries of violence and oppression. But my hope is one day, long after I’m gone, Black women will be honored and protected, more than I was, more than our ancestors.