Mental Pressure Nobody Wants: Being a Black Man

What’s that saying? “I’z tired, boss.” ?

Because yes, “I’z indeed tired, boss.”

Let’s begin with the inspiration for this story. I actually just got finished writing another story about police brutality (Yes, in 2021, a story about police brutality…relax, no super high profile cases in the news I don’t think…), which was itself was response to another another story on police brutality.

But that’s not what I want to write about here.

Nope, I don’t want to write about police brutality. I mean I did that, already. I don’t want to talk about fear the police, the government, disease, or any of those narratives. There is a library of those stories out there; please inquire with one of those creators for that commentary. And unlike that story I just posted, this story is going to be a super opinion piece, akin to a dump session.

What I want to talk about here is simple: the mental toughness to provide a super articulate response as a black man.

Irrespective of what some statistics may show, black men are still a super-minority juxtaposed to the general population and still disproportionately affected by things that kill humans. So, if I am a black man in a given situation, unless the event is “for black people”, I am probably the one of few black men there, if any others are even there at all.

That’s tiring.

As a result, I often find myself “representing all of us” in a given conversation, narrative, or opportunity. Yes, I have had to rehearse responses in my head in real-time knowing that if I botch this response or botch this performance, people behind me looking for the same opportunity I had will have that door closed because I screwed up. It’s like playing proxy dad to a bunch of kids you’ll never meet. And having recently become a bonus dad, I can compare the two experiences, and see the similarities.

And that’s not it. My actual worldviews on race matters aren’t sexy. Racism is trash, but racism’s a tool. And because many of my brethren can’t see beyond the racism, I often get called an “Uncle Tom” (and worse) for having a differing opinion (and Sambo was the traitor; read the book, people). And on top of all of that, I’m still a big burly black man when I saunter around, possibly in your neighborhood. And unless you know me, or break free from biases, when you see me, you see the stereotypes and tropes. So now I have to be on edge for even that.

So in conclusion (so far), I have to be simultaneously afraid of (or concerned about) (1) being the victim of a hate crime, (2) being a super minority, (3) botching opportunities for those behind me, and (4) losing favor with my “people”.

Or you know, actually, no…no I don’t.

I love black people. I love all people. But to say I have to be this representative and put Black America on my back, no that’s a recipe for disaster. And I would charge any black man reading this, or anyone feeling like they have to represent an entire group of people as compensation for their very existence…

It’s tough enough just to be yourself, that trying to be you and a bunch of other folks is just an exercise in futility. What’s the solution?

Well, it’s going to sound very tropey, but if you just believe in who you are, and that you have something worthwhile to add because you’re you, well…most of those concerns will take care of themselves. And for the rest, you’ll be too busy focused on being you to care.

So friend, focus on being you. Thanks.