.............Black+Alive=Trauma?

I've always made a point of never discussing religion, politics and race relations. I'm still taking that stance since this isn't a discussion, I'm simply saying how I'm feeling currently.

I'm now very aware of myself all the time. I don't know If that's a good or bad thing. I'm aware of where I am all the time... and how I look while I'm there. I've been Black my whole life but I've never had to think about it everyday as I wake up. Do white people (and other races) think about their skin color everyday too? Is it just me?

I'm not American so I do not use AAVE (African-American Vernacular English), I usually speak standard English because that's the English we speak where I'm from. Except now I'm aware of this fact and I'm not sure how to feel about it. Black people, 'my people' think I don't 'sound' Black and sometimes rush to make very unsettling assumptions. An African-American Uber driver had to call me for directions, when he arrived he looked at me all quizzical. Then he said "Hmm, I thought you was a white lady!" In a hurry to save face I replied "Oh, It's just because I'm not American, I didn't grow up here." While I hastened to explain, what I actually meant was 'please don't be mad at me for not sounding like I probably should.'

But now, oh now I find myself feeling fortunate to not sound like a stereotype. People can't tell what race I am from a phone conversation and If they can't tell then they can neither help nor hinder me. Why should I have to consider these things?

I am now in college much later than what's considered traditional, where I come from any sort of schooling beyond high school is still considered a luxury many people cannot afford. I've heard time and time again that I don't actually need college since many people hold jobs that pay quite handsomely and does not require a college degree. I've heard that college in America is simply another money-making scheme. College for me though is a place my grand and great grandparents weren't allowed in. They died poor, uneducated and barely functionally literate not because they chose not to 'pull themselves up by the bootstraps' and educate themselves; but because people with their skin color simply weren't allowed to part-take in this grand, luxurious money-making scheme. So whenever I feel the urge to simply quit school, I tell myself I'm staying the course for my family members who weren't allowed to.

If you're Black and alive right now then you probably need therapy. I'm a distance runner, It's one of the things I enjoy doing. Before Ahmad Aubrey, I used to only think about a few things when going for a run. I hope my legs won't get that runner's itch, I hope no dogs in my neighborhood get loose and chase me, I hope I can run longer than I did last time. Now when I run I think 'Gosh, I hope some scared little white lady don't happen to see me running and think I just stole something and I'm running to make a getaway.' Somehow I feel like I shouldn’t have to worry about that.

I am naturally a somewhat conservative dresser, but these days I don't simply choose an outfit because I like it. I find myself choosing clothing that says I'm not like 'those Black people.' I try to appear as non-threatening as possible. And I feel ashamed even though I keep doing it. I suppose I'm like a porn addict who feels ashamed but goes right back each time they clear their browser history. I ensure I smile and wave pleasantly in certain spaces. I stop mid-run to talk to my neighbors, ask after their dog who had surgery and I cleverly divulge information about myself, hoping I will appear less threatening. Why must I do this work constantly?

Whenever I see White people looking at me intently, I find myself wanting to shrink down in my seat and cover my face until they look away. Because my mind races against itself in an effort to hopefully figure out what they may or may not be thinking. Are they thinking 'Ugh, look at that one. I wish I could kill it right where it stands.' Could they be thinking 'By God, they may very well be human after all, despite what we were told/taught?'

Why do I even have think about this? It's tiring and seeing countless images of people who look just like me splashed all over TV screens daily is quite triggering. I hope I don't know, don't live next to and will never meet a person who watched George Floyd die with his face pressed to an asphalt and not feeling anything.

I'm afraid to be assertive lest it be interpreted as aggression. I'm mindful of getting angry just in case it causes some people to 'fear for their lives.'

I might as well be honest here, in case I die or get killed because my skin, my hair or my existence scare the wrong person.

I don't like myself too much. I've tried. Some days I can look in the mirror and smile back at my reflection. But for the most part I avoid looking myself in the eye. I feel like perhaps Black people deserve what has happened to us. Maybe we were in fact born inferior. Maybe Dr. King was wrong, maybe we really are only three-fifths human. Maybe I have no right to desire education, a good job, a decent place to live.

Maybe my decision to forego childbirth, dating and relationships in general is the only real sensible one I've made in a long time. For how stupid would I be to purposely bring a Black son into such a world? Only for him to undoubtedly be viewed and treated like a very large, very poisonous snake!

I feel as though I don't deserve love and perhaps that's why it has so far managed to evade me in all its forms. Being alive means I can run, experiment in the kitchen, read as many books as I can, as fast as I can. Being alive means I can enjoy these simple things that make me smile if only just for a moment. If I was sure I'll still be able to do the same in the afterlife, then perhaps I'd have been brave enough to go there a long time ago. Isn't it silly, the thought that I stuck around because that's the only way I'm able to read?

I once tried telling myself 'I love you,' and ended up feeling absolutely stupid. I've yet to work up the courage to call myself beautiful. And mean it. So you see...

I'm probably the only Black person and the only Black female willing to admit all this for all to know, I'm certainly not the only one who feel all these things, though. I’m afraid all the time, I’m trying to make myself understand and accept that there’s an entire country full of people who’d like to see me killed. Most of all I’m incredibly sad, I feel hopeless. Dead people should consider themselves lucky, they’ve managed to escape hate.

But.

If you're Black and alive right now, you probably are traumatized and need therapy too. Even if you don't yet know it.