I am a Black woman born and mostly raised in the Pacific Northwest of the United States. For those who don’t know, that area is not where Black people are, shall we say, plentiful in demographic influence. I was raised by two very Black parents whose identities were formed in the heart of St. Louis, Missouri, which is plentiful in Black influence.
This is not my first time around the block. I am old enough to have three adult children and four grandchildren, yet young enough to be mistaken for my grandchildren’s mother. I have lived a full life — one that could and will fill many books to come.
Growing up, I had no shortage of cultural and heritage knowledge. I thank the ancestors every day for parents who were not only brilliant but deeply educated — deeper than their college degrees, exploring history far beyond where textbooks would take you. I am fortunate.
To be young, gifted, educated and Black is a particular kind of torment while living in the U.S. You are always aware of the willful ignorance around you, always balancing how not to upset the status quo of their self-imposed right to comfort. It was always the “self-imposed” part that never sat well with me. As I grew, and life gave me experiences books could not offer, a deeper truth became evident: living within a colonized society means inhabiting a culture of colonization — a culture that we cannot escape if we hope to thrive.
Due to this very culture, I’m no longer able to name it for what it truly is: An indoctrination of belief that only one group of people has the right to operate within given (as in unearned) power and consequential control. Everyone else can only hope to strive to meet their standards, reaching for the promised trickle of resources and access that they hoard.
It would be a lot more straightforward if they would just say that, but what fun would that be?
They rely on the rest of us never knowing that the rules, systems and norms are all constructed to maintain their power — or their true lack thereof — as a secret. So we strive. We ensure we are perfect, timely, capable of pulling ourselves up by nonexistent bootstraps, all “without any help.”
We never ask for assistance, and our rugged individualism and isolation are seen as sacrificial, even noble. We never speak aloud that our success is slowly killing us. In fact, we don’t even associate our heaviness with this norm. The norm is correct; we must be broken.
Can we all celebrate that this fallacy is meeting its end? As we witness the fall of this cultural norm, those of you left wondering, “How could this happen?” have unfortunately swallowed the lie — hook, line and sinker.
There was a time when the history you were taught didn’t add up, but you weren’t a ‘history buff,” so you shrugged it off. There was a time when the oppressed said their treatment was unjust and cruel beyond measure, but you were brilliant with your reasoning as to why such harsh treatment might have been necessary. There was a time when women and the queer community took time to teach you their truths. Were you clever in how much of their time you took without paying for it?
This is no blame game. We are in the middle of a time when the playing field is being leveled, and none of us are winning. This is not the time, however, to lament what you could have done or didn’t do. This is the time to step into your power and into your values. This is a time for community and for collectivism. You cannot be right all of the time, but you can be on time right now. Show up, practice humility, lean into your values, be prepared to lose something.
We are beyond the fear of conflict; we need you to openly be adversarial. The loss you may experience could be material, but more likely it will be the loss of willful ignorance and the grief that denial shields you from. That loss, however, will not compare to what your community, your family, you and your soul will gain by challenging the very uncertain future.