Solidarity

DACA Student Support Rally - November 14, 2016
If I had to describe the experience in three words: humbling, empowering, uniting.

For all the disenfranchised people: I see you. I am with you. I understand the pain, the fear, the anger. 

Now is our time to make ourselves seen, heard, believed, and validated. 

now. is. our. time.

I stand with you.

I will stay by your side

I will fight your fight,

I will endure the pain,

I will take the weight from your shoulders.

Show me your fight

so that I can pick up 

when you feel like you can't go on.

Share with me your strength

so that I can carry you

when they try to break you down.

Lend me your voice

so that we can say it loud

say it together, 

united as one

With a fist held high;

with a stone cold expression;

shouting at the top of our lungs,

or in silence when the words run out;

marching and stomping,

screaming laughing crying,

making our presence known--

I stand with you.

And I will not let you fall

We stand together.

We fight together.

We survive together.

We will not fall.

W E L C O M E.

For those of you who are feeling afraid because of where our country is headed, welcome to the club.

(This is my one rant. Just for the record.)

Those feelings you have are the same that so many minorities have felt in this country for decades, maybe even centuries. The anger you are feeling is what fueled eras like the Abolitionist Movement, the Harlem Renaissance, the Civil Rights Movement, the Feminist Movement, the Chicano Movement, the Black Lives Matter Movement, the LGTBQ+ Rights Movement....

you get the point, right?

We have been fighting for so long. What you are seeing now is the blinds of privilege being lifted, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.

Welcome.To.The.Club.

Unfortunately, what you feel is still only a fraction of the pain that we, as the disenfranchised, have been feeling all along. For us, it is heightened. I know I personally feel uncomfortable and on high alert walking across my Predominantly White Institution . I find myself looking at people thinking, are they racist? Do they see me as a threat? Do they see me as a target? Do they see me as a problem?

My black skin is crawling.

What really sucks is that this would be our opportunity to help everyone see this, but clearly there's a majority of this country who are totally cool with sending my gay friends to conversion therapy, sending all the immigrants "back" to Mexico, taking women's control over their bodies from them, marginalizing racial minorities to continue the cycle of poverty and inhibit any chance of breaking down that image....

newsflash: not.all.minorities.are.pooruneducatedunemployeddeadbeatparents.
newsflash: you.cant.pray.the.gay.away. You can't shock it away either.
newsflash: planned.parenthood.does.more.than.just.abortions.
newsflash: look.up.the.definition.of.NATIVE. Caucasians are immigrants too.
newsflash: not.all.immigrants.are.Mexican. In fact, most aren't.
newsflash: not.all.immigrants.are.undocumented.
newsflash: not.all.immigrants.are.rapistdrugdealingmurderers.
newsflash: not.all.documented.citizens.are.good.

newsflash: It's 2016.
newsflash: your labels will not limit us.


So here's the thing. Our fight is not over. It never stopped. You are welcome to join us in an effort to bring about some overdue change.

Just leave your privilege at the door.

If there is one thing I've gathered from how our society has already started to change, it's that our forces must be stronger than ever.
So keep fighting. Don't put your head down. Don't sit back and take it. If someone's acting ignorant or disrespectful, put them in their place. Call them out. Expose their privilege. Let them know why they're wrong. Have the conversation. Don't suppress it anymore. Don't worry about hurt feelings or losing friends. The ones worth keeping will support your cause.

Speak up. Stay strong.

I am hopeful that the fear will end. I am hopeful that the pain will end. When that happens, when the clouds finally part, things will be better. Just fight until we can get there.

A Source of Hope

I spent about 11 consecutive hours obsessing over the election results. I listened to hours of analysis, followed the math as the numbers came in, and stressed over all of it every step of the way. It completely controlled me and my emotional state of mind. I lost hope. I was angry. I was sad. I was confused. I was scared. I just kept thinking: what is going to happen to this country?

And the truth is, I have no idea.

After all of emotions that coursed through me throughout this process, which culminated and escalated as I watched the electoral map turn red, I realized that there was no point in dwelling in those emotions. That would only make my life miserable. Instead, I'm looking forward. Yes, I have an uneasy feeling about the state of our country. Yes, I'm still struggling to accept this reality. Yes, tears still come to my eyes, and fear to my heart, every time I think about calling him our president. But I'm trying.

I'm trying to see this as an avenue for change, an opportunity for us to grow and learn with one another, to embrace love and understanding and to reject hate and polarization.

I'm trying to take the high road.

The way I see it, this is our country's cry for help. It's the only way we could find a way to say "things are not okay, and something needs to change." The next step is for us to acknowledge this, to find the flaws, and to start to change them.

There is a lot going on in our country. The fact of the matter is, most of it is not new. It's just finally being exposed and vocalized. There are more factors that will divide us right now than there are things that could bring us together. I understand that for many people seeing our new President-Elect as the future leader of our country and of the free world is an insult, a travesty, etc. I understand that you are angry.

When that anger subsides (and I hope, for your sake that it doesn't last too long), I want you to join me in a fight of solidarity. I want you to join me in an effort to invoke change and reshape our country. We're hurting. That's clear. Let's do something about that.

There is no hate on the path I'm walking. It's not clear where it will take me, but I refuse to let the negativity plaguing our country to define my attitude.

It might be idealistic, but I'm going to do everything in my power to find happiness in these dark times. I'm going to do everything to be a source of hope for others to hold on to.

In the mean time, please stay safe.

If you are cisgender, heterosexual, Christian, upper-economic class, and/or Caucasian male, please be aware of your privilege. Use it to protect those who are marginalized and living in fear.

a two-way street.

I hear it. I see it. I feel it.

I can't take it.

I'm done.

I'm done putting up with people's racist tendencies,

like BLACKFACE

like appropriating our HAIRSTYLES

like using the N-WORD (It's okay; my friend is black)

Nope.Nope.Nope.

I'm done with the sideways glances in my direction,

every time race is mentioned in a conversation,

because I'm the only Black person in the room.

Don't focus on me.

Focus on the real elephant, sitting on my chest, crushing my heart:

IT'S 2016; WHY IS THERE ONLY ONE BLACK STUDENT IN THIS CLASSROOM.

I will not beg; I will simply ask: please stop looking at me every time current events about race, or race in any context for that matter, are brought up. Here's a fun fact: you too have a race. Maybe it's white. Maybe it's one of many others that make our world a beautiful, diverse place.

Race is not synonymous with black.

I'm done staring at the table until I'm sure the glances stop. Let me exist in my skin the same way you can exist in yours.

Let me back up.

First: about BLACKFACE.

I cannot even fathom why anybody thinks this is valid. It's not a joke. It's just hurtful. Honestly. I take it personally. Of course you're not imitating me as an individual, but is that how you see black people? Really? Oh, wait. You're not really racist. No, it's completely justifiable for you to kick a race that's already been hit by a bus and backed over a few times. It's totally okay for you to degrade our race, making us out to be crazy, no better than dirt. Completely acceptable. [Never in a million years will this be true]

Second: OUR HAIR.

It's not for you to touch at your own will.

It's not for you to take and wear our styles like they are your own.

It's not for you.

There are certain styles that are unique to our culture that should stay that way. My kinky, nappy, curly hair isn't just there for show. It is part of my identity. When you attempt to copy it, you're invalidating my very being.  By adopting a hairstyle that is not designed for your hair, you are penalizing me. It doesn't look good or natural on you, but that's what everyone else sees and associates it with, and now it's got a bad name.

Leave our hair and associated styles alone.

Plus, you touching my hair without my permission is just throwing away the time I spent making it look flawless this morning. So thanks for ruining that.

Third: the N-WORD

Don't use it. There is no context in which I should ever hear that word justifiably used, but especially not from your mouth. It's 2016; it's time to give it up.

Your token black friend is not your way into the "secret society" where we sit around all day calling each other n*ggas.

Don't use it.

To be quite  honest with you, I'm tired of fulfilling the expectation that I am obligated to educate you. I am willing to have a conversation, to clarify something related to my black experience, but I am done being the encyclopedia for all things black. That's what google is for. Educate yourself. After you've done so, I'd love to have a conversation about it. But I'm not your teacher anymore. I will not allow you to form generalizations about my race based on my experience alone. WE ARE NOT ALL THE SAME. Therefore, my experience and how I live my life is only valid if you're trying to understand me. I am black, yes. It is a large part of my identity, yes. It is the only thing that makes me who I am, and I can thus speak on behalf of all people and things black--nope.

I know I will keep fighting this undying racism in our country, but it feels like we're going in circles. It feels liken no matter what I do, no matter what any of us do, we will always face scrutiny and persecution. We will always be targeted and profiled without justification. I want things to change. But as long as my identity is trivialized and broken down by societal norms that nobody wants to address, let alone change, what can I do?

Change runs down a two-way street. It's time for you to deliver on your end, because we sure are trying to deliver on ours.

I thought I was past the anger. Turns out, I'm not.

I'm heated.

But I'm also hurting.

To all those who are hurting with me, I need you to hear these words and know they're true:

YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

No matter where you are or what you're going through, there is someone who is battling just like you are. I will not let you fight through this on your own; I will pick you up. I know it's hard. I know it's something that is so easily internalized and personalized.

I just really need you to understand that we'll get through this together; it's the only way we can.

"What do you have to lose?"

Dear Massa Trump, 

There's something I need you to understand. Your generalizations of races and religions will do nothing in "winning the vote." I need you to understand that your impression of "the Blacks", that we are all poor, uneducated, violent beings, is wrong. It's offensive. It's demeaning. It affirms that all of my efforts have been for naught. My strive for academic success and global understanding is useless, because all I'm seen as is a poor, uneducated, angry black woman. 

You keep saying, "what do [we] have to lose?" regarding the African-American population voting for you. I need you to understand how that pushes me away, deters me from considering you as a presidential candidate. By saying this, you're implying that we have lost everything. You're implying that we have no hope to change our "fate" and to thrive as minorities in this country. It makes me feel threatened and set back, as if society isn't already doing that enough.

So please stop. Stop generalizing my race and painting us as a hopeless, weak, "backwards" people. Stop acting as if the only way we can exist is as drug dealers, prostitutes, murderers, and single inner-city families living off of government handouts. Stop treating the issue of poverty as something filthy, as if it, and all its components (aka people) should be thrown out with the trash. We are not all the top 1%, but we are all still living.

Please acknowledge my aspirations as valid. Please remind me that my education is worth something. Please show me, somehow, in some way, that my life matters. I'm only asking that you regard and treat me, and my people, like we're human (shouldn't be too hard, considering we are).

So you ask: "what do you have to lose?"

I have everything to lose. I have my livelihood to lose. I have my dignity to lose. I have my strength to lose. I have a solidarity and understanding in my culture that allows me to keep moving forward on the most difficult days to lose. Frankly, I have my humanity to lose.

Stop treating me like my life doesn't matter more than just as a vote in your favor. I am not voting in this election simply to satisfy your ego. I'm voting for my future and my safety, as well as for my country's future and safety. More than that, I'm voting for progress, solidarity, and change.

I will not throw away a vote on someone who would not stop to give me the time of day, simply because I am black. I will not throw away my vote on someone who continues to perpetuate marginalization in our society. I will not vote for someone who defiles the image of an entire people simply for political gain. 

I will not vote for someone whose views on the social aspect of our society are moving backwards, back to the age of discrimination and segregation, back to the days when diversity was no more than a myth. 

I will not vote for that, because my life is a constant battle against those very things.

I guess you could say I have a fight to lose, in voting for you. 

I am not going to lose this fight.

Identity.

I've recently become more aware of my identity as a Black American. Ironically, this increased awareness presents itself in the form of confusion, blurred lines, and more questions than answers. But I love that. I'm redefining myself, and I don't know how this will all end up. Below is the accumulation of some of the thoughts I've been processing recently as I embrace this transformation. It might not make much sense, but it's honestly where I am:

I have an inherent, unshakable feeling of failure.

That I have been failed by a society that dilutes my history,

That I have failed my ancestors by rejecting my identity,

That I have failed, time and time again, to embrace my black skin;

That I have considered my pain and burdens to be greater than theirs,

That I have forgotten the tears and blood shed on the path they took to get me here—

              perhaps this is the greatest failure of them all.

I have been taught that I Stand on the Shoulders of Giants.

I did not learn this from the pages of selective history fed to me in school,

Which paint my people as weak and broken, tired and savage.

No, I learned this from my own blood, from the stories passed by word of mouth.

I learned from a language that others cannot comprehend

Because it is our story, for our people, preserved so that we can remember our roots

Our stories penetrate the soul, running so deep that they are undeniable;

Setting a fire within, bringing out immense pride, strength, dignity, and beauty—

              this is not something you learn from a book.

They told me that my identity is rooted in fear and anger, betrayal and desperation and confusion, pain and tears;

But these factors are minuscule compared to the strength, resilience, and pride that run deeper in my veins than blood.

There was no exaggeration, nor any hesitation, when voices cried out saying,
     "we have come over a way that with tears has been watered; we have come treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered.”

my ancestors have carried me a mighty long way;

And yet, I have failed them.

I allowed myself to partake in a false sense of security.

I believed that the system was on my side, that the fight was over and we could now rest.

i was wrong.

I can no longer sit back and say that there is not a problem

I can no longer sit back and wait for others to find a solution

I can no longer leave my brothers and sisters to carry the fight for me;

i must join them.

The blood that runs through my veins carries a DNA that has survived hell.

It carries a fight that was started centuries ago when they were stripped of humanity.

It carries no story of self-pity, nor weakness, nor fear.

My blood only carries a story of perseverance, strength, strong will, unity and hope.

My actions must reflect that which lies within me.

So I must fight.

For the tears shed, lives lost, and injustices witnessed by my people, I must fight today.

I must continue to rebuild the humanity that was stripped of my ancestors, I must redefine our identity.

If you ever feel the need to ask why I have joined this fight,

Just know it is because

                                         I am ready to shake this feeling of failure.

                                         I am ready to take back our identity.