#grieving while black

“I have found that people who experience privilege in a given area yet disadvantage or disenfranchisement in another struggle deeply with empathy—they do not know how to sit with the grief of their marginalization and the responsibility of their privilege. Privilege is not linear: we all have areas in which our social location allows us to wield power, whether inadvertently or intentionally, in ways that cause harm.

At the time of the Ferguson uprising, I observed a Black man tell a white woman that she would never understand what it’s like to fear leaving her home. He was so blinded by his own grief that he was unable to recognize that she, and every woman on this earth, knows what it’s like to fear leaving their home. To walk home at night. To wear certain outfits in public.

This man’s reaction caused me to wonder how he could possibly support Black women in our grief, regardless of how many Black women he had dated, loved, or married—or the ones who were his children or part of his family—when he could not open his heart to witness the fullness of our experience.

Similarly, I find very little hope in ‘feminist’ spaces because they are often overrun by white women who believe that their experiences of womanhood are all-inclusive and whi don’t see policing of Black women’s bodies as issues affecting ‘woman’”

“We are trained to be wary of Black men’s grief and potential triggers as we walk the impossible path of managing our own safety in a community where men recklessly accept the privileges of masculinity to offset the burden of Blackness.

When we draw our boundaries within these dynamics, we are cast us unfair, une pathetic, and bitter. The same anger that is viewed as just when attached to the plight of Black men based on race is used to silence and delegitimize Black women because of our race and gender.

We are disparaged for being nothing more than ‘hurt’ women. The fact is that many of us are hurt, but those experiences give us authority in matters of intersectional justice and liberation, just as the pain caused by racism gives Black men a voice.”

But we think that we possess what we only channel, and when we avoid parts of ourselves and allow our wounds to go unattended, our suffering hijacks our power, causing as to pervert its flow.

[…]though we have perverted the use of power into something that we own and wield over and against other beings, power cannot be possessed any more than life can. We are conduits of power, not owners of it. Power is a force that flows through us in a given moment. It wields us, and through it, we respond to whats in front of us.”

But I refused to flatten myself into who whites wanted me to be) I could be Black, maybe, but there was a certain type of Black that they needed to imagine me to be in order to form even the most casual of bonds) It didn't matter how well-spoken, well-educated, thoughtful, or resourceful I was) It didn't matter that I could articulate their problems and bring them solutions) All of this was happening every day) Declaring their solidarity with the Black community) And every day my stomach turned as I read their empty statements) I have frequently experienced violence as a result of my gender and my skin color) I feel proud of who I am) Unfortunately, I am not the only Black person who has had to contort myself in order to survive. What white supremacy cannot accomplish physically through death and assault, it seeks to accomplish spiritually. Systemic racism was meant to destroy Black people's relationship to ourselves, to each other, and--- most importantly for its own survival---to white people. The very fabric of our country was premised upon Black people's expendability: we were brought here to die. White people were never meant to see us as people. what white supremacy did to us) We were never meant to be in this system) and failure always lingers on the horizon) How does one not feel burdened by the tears of generations? How does one not touch the very heart of grief? I've witnessed many white allies and activists who quickly become overwhelmed, bogged down, discouraged, and exhausted; they are experiencing a fragment of disempowerment in a system that caters to them. For the first time, they are touching the weight of the grief that Black people carry on a day-to-day basis while functioning within a system intrinsically meant to ensure that we remain under threat of extinction so that white people can thrive. white people, come to terms with your relationship to failure) white people are not accustomed to living under the burden of impossibility) Commit. Regardless of the outcome. Accept the unequivocal reality of failure and still choose to keep going. We must keep going, in the same way we choose to live fully in the moment, knowing that we are going to die.

-Anonsee Storyweaver