A Letter.

Dear Dr. X

You probably don’ t remember me, but I remember you very well. Two years ago I attended Georgia Southern University. I was a SOAR leader and you helped with our sessions. I always admired you as a well-spoken and thoughtful person, who was passionate about helping students transition to college. You seemed like someone I could trust. Especially, as a black woman. Anyways, the following semester I came to you in the middle of a school-induced panic attack. I was going through a lot of stress that semester. I had just come out to my mom, I had just begun experiencing anxiety, and I was unsure of where I was headed. Because of this, I wasn’t able to focus or study well for school, and I missed my test after not being able to sleep. You helped me, and then directed me to the on-campus health clinic. The next day, my professor said that I could not make up my test until I had documentation I was at your office. I called the counseling center multiple times, and the nice receptionist told me to come in.

When I came in, I guess you had just gotten in from your lunch break. You were completely rude with me. You talked to me like I was a child, and scolded me for unknowingly interrupting your lunch break. I felt worthless. The way you treated me was even worse than you refusing to write a letter for me. Which I think you did out of spite. After that incident I continued having my anxiety attack, self-harmed, was committed to the hospital in savannah. I medically withdrew from school, and took a semester off. I believe my mother called you trying to gain information on where I was, and she said during that phone call you were completely unprofessional and rude as well. 

This letter isn’t a sad story about how you ruined me, or ruined my life. This letter is a thank you note. I now attend Kennesaw State University and I graduate in the spring. I currently work on campus with adults with learning disabilities. I am an activist, and a writer, and a student leader. I am applying for MSW programs in the Fall, and I know I will attend a very highly ranked school. I have successful relationships with my friends, family, and peers. I want to be a counselor so I can help other students like me. After attending counseling at Kennesaw with an MSW student, I learned that there are good and caring counselors out there. People who consistently treat others with respect.  I couldn’t have done all of this without your help. Your complete rudeness towards me gave me the fuel I needed to help others. The way you treated me, showed me exactly the ways that I do NOT want to practice with my clients. By dehumanizing me, you gave me the strength to accept every person that may possibly need my help, and that is why I continue to work hard. 

I don’t know you. I don’t know much about your practice, other than the fact that a quick google search has shown me you’ve won some awards. I don’t know if you’re a good person, or I don’t know if you’re a good psychologist. All I know is the one interaction we’ve had, and I know how hurtful it was. So, if this behavior is not reflective of who you are as a person, or as a Black woman, I ask that you may remember this letter in the future. I ask that you may remember your behavior has impact on people, once they leave your office. I ask that maybe just one time, you cut your lunch break a little bit short to take time to talk to a student who clearly needed help.

Thank you.

On Being Black and Angry

(Hi yall sorry I've been missing. Life is good.)

This post is difficult for me to write, because there are so many things running through my head as I write this. I guess I'm just going to explain to yall the difficult relationship I have with anger, and why expressing my emotions is so liberating, but also scary and traumatic for me.

I've seen a lot of (white) feminist friends embrace their angriness and make it part of their identity. They're tired fo men telling them to smile, they're tired of being harassed, they're angry about women's rights, queer rights, etc. I agree. I'm angry too. But I just, I want to think about who that anger is reserved for? It's easy to reclaim the term angry, and attach it to your womanhood, when you're not already automatically viewed as masculine, inherently violent, inherently angry, simply for being black.

Growing up, I had always heard the expression angry black woman. I didn't really have any angry black women in my life though. My mother, I love her to death, but she is very passive and calm. My aunts are as well. I was always the angriest person I knew while growing up. It wasn't that I was just bitter, it's the fact that I've always been sincerely bothered by forms of injustice. Even when I was a little girl, if I felt as though something wasn't just or fair, I HAD to do something. I remember being in elementary school and telling on the boys in my class for inspecting if we were wearing bras, making fun of Native Americans, and a subtely racist comment my librarian said. I remember starting a petition when Lizzie McGuire was being canceled. In high school, if we were cheerleading, you did NOT want to make me irritated. I remember one day, a friend saw my tumblr and said "You just seem to have a lot of anger. Why ARE black women so angry?" In that moment, I lacked the language to explain why. I went home and vague blogged and cried for a minute or two.

In college, I was known for being outspoken. I say this in past tense because at my current school, I don't really have the typical college experience. But anyways, I was the girl who messed up a conference when I disagreed with someone hosting it. I would write in the paper. I would call out my boss, co-workers, anyone when I felt like they were being wrong or offensive. I'm not afraid of confrontation, ever.

 I never thought I would be seen as aggressive though. I'm naturally bubbly and have a high pitched voice. I lean towards things that are seen as feminine, or "girly." People know to never make me mad, but they also know that I can be soft and sweet, and would do anything for my friends.

It was at a national summit, for YP4. A progressive fellowship. This experience was draining in ways that I can't break down in this post, but I will acknowledge that it took me over a year to write about it until now. I had gotten on stage (like other POC) to call out behavior we had seen at the conference. I think I made a statement referencing people who attended a regional training in New York. A man I had never seen before tried to cut me off in the crowd, and I continued. After people were done talking, I walked up to the man and told him that as a Black, Queer woman, we rarely get the chance to speak and I didn't appreciate he cutting me off. He then stepped forward, towards my friend (who is also a woman) as though we were trying to fight him. After that, it was madness. He was calling us sweetie, I was getting more mad, my masculine and male friends were trying to calm him down, I was upset. Eventually, we came to some sort of weird agreement, but the situation made me feel really... ugly?

This man. This cis man, saw that I was upset. And because I was upset, he thought that I was going to fight him. I had never had that experience before. In my world, women do NOT fight men, because MEN are stronger and angrier, and women are weaker and calmer. Why would a man think that I would fight him? I would lose of course? Unless of course, this man doesn't see me as a woman. He doesn't see me as something he should respect or cherish, or take care of, because he does not see my womanhood, even when I am angry. That's when I realized. Angriness, is truly not for black women.

I started noticing it in little situations. A black man would hold the door open for everyone but me. Men on campus walk directly into me, and don't apologize. I'm not treated like a man, I'm treated like a masculine piece of nothing. I think it has to do with my stature as well. I'm really tall. But also, my complexion. My dark-skinned friends who are cis women are sometimes adressed as "sir" even while wearing stereotypically feminine clothing. I don't have to reclaim angriness because angrieness was already placed upon me.

In my last relationship, I was arguing with my partner. The situation was tense and heated. My partners friend was in the car. He, a cis man, started yelling at me. Eventually, he threatened to fight me. Later, when I brought this up to my ex, they said "he wouldn't have really done it." This situation was, and still is traumatic. Once again, not because of fear of physical violence, but because I realized that my femininity is often stripped of me. These situations, opened up the old wombs of blackness and colorism. Was there a point in identifying as femme/a woman if I was always going to be seen as violent and scary? Am I hideous to men? Would anyone find me attractive? Would I ever be treated like a woman?

A lot of therapy helped, but it still really sucks to be honest. Dating is difficult. Dating people lighter than me is super difficult. Dating people who have dated people lighter than me is painful. Being around men is painful. Finding myself attractive is hard. I've had to confront so many times the fact that the way that I look and feel can change the way I'm treated drastically. I had some drama with a man who was lighter than me this year, and seeing the way he was framed as a victim was exhausting for me. I feel like whenever I express an emotion other than happiness, no one questions where my anger is coming from. Instead they just see me as someone willing to lash out.

I think people often question why I'm so vocal on social media, and in person. They don't get why I care, why I call people out, why I'm so emotional, why I'm so angry. It's because I WANT to make you uncomfortable. I want you to be scared. I want you to confront the fact that I am willing to call someone out in public, and I'm willing to wear lipstick and dresses. I'm willing to be tough, and angry, and strong, and none of those facts impact my femmeness one bit. I don't have to smile to make you comortable. I don't have to soften myself to fix YOUR racism. You WILL respect my opinions, and you WILL respect my anger, and you WILL deal with how that makes you feel.

After the YP4 incident, I found myself apologizing to one of the men that helped descalate the situation. I think I said I was sorry for acting crazy, and I ddn't want him to think less of me. Two years later he brought up how that was weird. I agreed. It was weird. I am not sorry. I did nothing wrong.

Facebook Statuses

I wanted to find a way to archive my statuses, so here ya go!

February 12th

I know it's been said before but I'm really trying to find the appropriate amount of accountability for people who are mentally ill?

For one, I know, that when I am going through things I have probably hurt people unintentionally, and been completely blind to it. I've just been thinking about how most of the people I interact with have mental illnesses, and how I really struggle with calling people out on their behavior. Like what am I supposed to ignore, accept, deal with? Where is the line? Am I giving these people the same amount of consideration they're giving me? What's the line between loving people despite their "flaws" and letting people completely walk over you? Does anyone have the answers to these never-ending questions?

Don't even get me started between knowing the difference between leaning on your friends for emotional support, and being unhealthy/draining. I do this thing where I'm like wow. Everyone sucks. I'm gonna make a call out post. And then the same people who hurt me interact with the things I write on here/tumblr. So it reminds me that wow. People don't really even know what they're doing. Its so confusing.

February 11th

Let’s talk about the fact that it seems as though no one can criticize Beyoncé. And by no one, I mean, dark skinned black woman like me are not allowed to criticize Beyoncé. The second someone even hints that maybe there’s something problematic with Formation or anything she’s done, in regards to colorism, or light-skin privilege they are instantly silenced and virtually beaten up for it. So that’s triggering for me! I don’t even have an opinion on Formation because I listened to that song one dang time. I don’t have much of an opinion on Beyonce either unless she’s being used as a scapegoat for white feminism. But it is annoying and stressful to see Beyoncé everywhere, because she kind of serves as a reminder that there are certain things we (people that look like me) just can’t do. We can’t call certain people out, and we can’t complain about certain things.

People have valid concerns about the things she does and people I interact with get SO UPSET. They get so mad, and that serves as a reminder that we have to be silent.

We can’t talk about the pain we feel and we can’t divide the movement and we can’t negate peoples blackness. We just have to sit here. We can’t ever mention Zendaya or Amandla or we’re irrational. We can’t share stories of our pain without being met with “well at the end of the day we’re all black.” Heck, I literally can’t even date without questioning if anyone will find me attractive. I can’t interact with people without feeling hideous sometimes. I can’t identify as femme without thinking my skin is inherently masculine.
Like this shit is deep for me! This is MY thing! This is the thing that makes me silent and scared. This is the thing that stops me from talking to everyone. Colorism is freaking traumatic for me. I just feel like people aren’t freaking getting it. People within “the movement” have such basic analysis about this topic. People within “the movement” are sharing the Willie Lynch letter y'all that letter is not freaking real.

I am hurt. And you don’t get to ignore my pain. You don’t get to sit here and tell me I’m beautiful and like my selfies and funny posts and then ignore me when I say this because it makes you feel uncomfortable. We need to talk about this. The fact that sometimes I feel honored that someone lighter than me would find me attractive. The fact that I have to grin and smile as people tell me they avoid going outside so they don't get dark.

I swear the more I feel conventionally attractive the more I feel like people aren’t seeing me. They are looking at me, but they literally are not seeing me.

February 9th

One day when I'm in the emotional space I'm going to write a super long article breaking down colorism and explaining how it's a structural issue instead of just memes and dating preferences. I'm also going to explain that I don't trust your political analysis if you can't seem to comprehend colorism but can comprehend other systems of oppression. I'm also going to expect this article to be completely ignored because I've noticed a theme of people talking about colorism only receiving recognition and being heard when they are light-skinned 😊😊😊😊 and y'all can ignore this status cause it makes you uncomfortable but I really don't care anymore. I'm tired of light skinned people rallying around each other telling each other they're proud of each other for acknowledging colorism when there are people with my complexion and darker being ignored or freaking chastised for talking about it.

February 8th

It's 2:34 am and I'm up thinking about how when we were trying to share the demands certain people couldn't be found, but they're still here asking me for help with organizing. Black students compiled a VERY short list of things our campus could do to help us combat racism, and you couldn't be bothered to read or share it. But the second you get in a situation you want to ask me, a Black woman, to help you with your labor. This isn't me being petty this is me saying I'm not dumb. I remember this stuff when people want to discuss allyship and privilege.