What It Means To Be Black

There are no words I can produce that will ever fully encompass what it means to be black. That being said, there are no words to encompass what it means to be white, latino, muslim, gay, christian, mixed, atheist, the list continues.

But as a black young educated woman, I need to try and find those words that express my blackness.

What does it mean to be black? For me, it means from an early age being ostracized. I was told as a child I was "different." I had another child tell me "I was chocolate" when all I saw was her being my friend. I felt the uneasiness my parents felt when we went to Stone Mountain Park for the laser show, and people around us were drinking and waving Confederate flags; even though I didn't understand their fears, I could feel them deep inside myself. It means being called "colored" by my neighbor who was upset at how the neighborhood had changed. It's about feeling ugly because my hair didn't sway, or my eyes didn't sparkly like the ocean. It mean being taught early in life to always stay alert, to never cause any trouble; to always have "a way out." To be black is to get your license and almost NEVER be stopped when your Vietnamese or white friends are in your car, but if you drive around with two black young men with braids or dreads you will be stopped immediately and often. It mean feeling depressed and looking for help, and though not on purpose, those in the mental health clinic showing great surprise at your articulation of words, of feelings. It's knowing you are human but often being seen as some sub species. It means being invited to a Yacht club and being stared at. It means living in a majority white suburb and having the neighbors run for the front door when you turn the corner. It's being blamed for the economy, it's being the sole reason for why black people struggle. It's the fear of having children; regardless of what race I marry, because if my child has enough melanin in his or her skin tone, it is solely my fault; because I myself am black.

What does it mean to be black? It means enjoying sushi dates with friends, traveling to other countries, and thinking about grad school. It's about jogging and eating quinoa and finding a special place in your diet for skim milk. It's about visiting beach houses and swimming all day, listening to indie music and having deep and profound conversations with your friends about the world around you.

Honestly speaking, being black is no different than being anything else, other than the differences we put on ourselves; and others have put on us.

Being black means being human. Why can't we be human?

An Open Letter to My Internal Proceedings

Last night I came home, lay down in my bed, and fell asleep before 7; fully clothed and oblivious to the world.

I dreamt of nothing. I woke a few times only because of the sweat forming on my brow.

Mentally I stumbled awake around 2 in the morning, followed by physically rolling out of my bed-- in search of a toilet.

I returned to my room and haphazardly proceeded to undressed myself completely.

I got back into bed only to realize.... I was fully awake.

So of course I've just spent the past 3 hours replaying life in my head and watching the sky turn purple outside; feeling the onset of panic slip in and out of my throat as it often has for the past few months.

Taking deep breaths, massaging my chest; poking at mosquito bites, fiddling with my hair... anything subtle but real to wake myself up if I were really still asleep; if I'm really just dreaming of wakefulness.

I'm not.

At least, I don't think so.

From time to time I forget if I'm awake or asleep (or is it that I've lost the ability to tell the difference).

From time to time I wonder if I'm dead.

I wonder if I'm in some strange purgatory. Sometimes things are just so ridiculous, presumptuously daft, sometimes all the coincidences are too perfectly fitted together that I'm unsure if it's reality or just a trick of the mind.

I've hit a point of consciousness where the edges of my reality have melded with the edges of surreality, fantasy; the unknown.

I was feeling so good a week ago.

But that was probably just manic.