The Undercover Introvert

Women: We’re (Not) Frauds with a Capital F

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There’s a kind of Orwellian doublespeak that festers in the dark, hidden crevices inside a woman’s head, a persistent message that underscores everything she does, from girlhood to her elder years. This doublespeak creates a situation in which she finds herself living in two separate realities that should be mutually exclusive but, somehow, coexist like host and parasite. In one reality, she’s wholly able to acknowledge that she’s intelligent, capable, innovative, thoughtful, a good parent, a good daughter, and an overall delightful human being. Yet, because of the existence of that other reality, she’s plagued with doubts about her abilities, her intelligence, her goodness, and is certain that, eventually, everyone will see her for what she is: an absolute fraud.

On the whole, I’ve done moderately well throughout my life. Good grades in school that earned a full scholarship to college, where I also performed well. Decent jobs where I received promotions and regularly took on additional responsibilities, including training coworkers and overseeing large projects. A bright daughter on whom I doted. My present career where, for the first time in my life, I find myself doing work that I actually enjoy a great deal.

And, yet, those pesky ink-black doubts persist…

Not that this is anything new. I’ve always felt less than sure about my footing, even when the more logical part of my brain tells me I’m standing in just the right place, sometimes even the best place. And these feelings of inadequacy don’t stem from a parent who was critical to the point of cruelty. Or sustained bullying in school. Or an ex who chipped away at my self-confidence until only a shivering skeleton of the person I had been remained. Overt outside judgment has very little to do with the blossoming of this doubt. Funnily enough, if anything, the external feedback I’ve received over my lifetime has been consistently positive, which only seems to make things worse, deepening the rising dread that I’ll eventually be found out, exposed, and then what?

This brand of trouble starts and ends inside my own head, where that opposite-facing commentary runs along doggedly for however long I’m awake, the criticisms and self reflection cripplingly intense. I am a master at taking my own inventory, at receiving compliments and finding a way to twist them into criticisms, at wondering just how long it will be before someone figures out my long game and exposes me for exactly what I am.

A fraud.

If only you could be seen for what you really are, that nasty bitch snarls from the comfy nest she’s built inside the shadowy, inaccessible area near the back of my skull. People wouldn’t be so quick with the compliments, now would they?

Before I can respond, that howling dread metastasizes, and the bitch continues, throwing poison tipped knives that hit extremely close to home.

Not a good enough mother: your daughter was the last one waiting at pickup, WTAF?

Not smart enough to pursue this particular degree: you might be doing fine in class, for now, but how many times did it take you to read through this analysis before you finally understood it?

Not working hard enough to deserve this promotion: there’s no way in hell you’ll be able to handle all of this extra responsibility. Good luck getting fired!

Not a decent human being in any way, shape, or form: good god, if ANYONE could tap into some of the commentary running through your head, you’d be ostracized, blacklisted, and held up as a cautionary tale for impressionable children.

Here’s the thing: fuck that bitch.

I’m far from perfect, but I know I’m not a fraud. I’m damned smart (and modest, can’t you tell?). I work hard, and that’s really the key to all of my successes, large, small, and in between. If a situation needs some elbow grease, I just so happen to carry an extra large can of WD40 in my purse and I’m prepared to grease away. I gauran-damned-tee you won’t outwork me, and I’m fan-fucking-tastically quick on my feet. Put me in a corner, and I’ll come up with a way out of it. Give me a problem to solve, a tight deadline, an impenetrable text that needs deciphering. I. Am. Here. For. It.

So, why the persistent black cloud of doubt traveling over my head, ready to spill rain on every single one of my flashy parades? Why do I listen to the nasty bitch in my head? Why does she wield so much power?

Welp, little girls are born into a society that values them less than it values little boys, that teaches them to keep their options narrowed so they’re still well within range of the realm of home and family, that informs them they just aren’t great at things like math, science, leadership, sports, and the like. Those little girls eat up all that garbage, and that just so happens to be the kind of cuisine that best feeds the nasty bitch setting up shop inside their heads, infecting their every move with doubt.

Are you sure you should tell everyone your opinion? What if you’re wrong?

No one will like you if you run for Student Body President. Leave that to one of the boys.

Awfully bossy and full of yourself, aren’t you?

College, sure, but this degree will put you waaaaaaay out of your depth, sweetheart.

And on, and on, and on, the bullshit piling up as the years proceed.

Even in these more ‘enlightened’ times, the inequities persist, and we internalize the hell out of them, ladies.

I’ve watched men to which the label of ‘mediocre’ would be an overstatement of their actual abilities conduct themselves with rock solid confidence as they bumble through life, pulling a reverse King Midas as they turn all they touch into complete shit. These men are routinely rewarded by society and called leaders. They certainly receive higher salaries than the more accomplished and better prepared women around them.

The game is unfair, the playing field far from level, the rules rigged in favor of anything masculine, deck upon deck stacked against us. So, what’s a woman to do?

Glad you asked.

First order of business: punch that nasty bitch in the throat whenever she dares to whisper those untruths at inopportune moments. You don’t need that shit. She’ll STFU if you hit her often enough. It’s gonna take time, though, so don’t give up after the first thousand hits.

Second order of business: ask yourself WWMWMD?

What would mediocre white man do?

It’s a valid question, because these are the fellas who can best skate through life by virtue of their sex and skin color, gliding over paths made just for them, usually on the backs of people of color and women. These are the guys who breeze in late, interrupting your presentation to ask a question you already covered in the beginning. When you make a suggestion, no one hears it, but when MWM repeats what you just said, everyone claps him on the back for his originality and ability to problem solve. Also, he’s your boss! Or, he answers to you yet makes more than you do. MWM never worries about reading the assignment before monopolizing the conversation during the philosophical seminar. Waiting one’s turn is for other, less white, less male rule-following suckers. He has things to say! He’s the fella who takes all the credit for the preparation and sweat equity you put into the project to make sure it’s a success. Only 20% qualified for the position? MWM will apply for it anyway and actually get the job! Meanwhile, you’re taking online leadership courses, learning the second language the position suggested applicants know, and not lying on your resume…oh, you’re also seething with soul-destroying rage at this guy’s audacity, as well as his consistent, inexplicable success despite obvious incompetence.

You aren’t going to beat the mediocre white men rocketing through life on hopes, prayers, and a kickass combination of white male privilege — this is his game, after all. But you can join him by asking yourself: WWMWMD?

He wouldn’t let doubts keep him from reaching for stars he has no business even craning his neck to stare at. He leaps first, looks later, or not at all. Not qualified for the job? Who the fuck cares? That’s what learning while doing is for. Or, better, delegating it to a lower level employee and then taking the credit. I don’t suggest being an asshole to reach your goals, but do try on some of that mediocre white male confidence for yourself. It feels pretty damned good. And after walking around encased in it for a while, you’ll find yourself making it much more than you’re faking it.

This was a lesson I finally learned the hard way last year, surrounded by men who should have known better than I did based on length of experience but didn’t actually appear to. It suddenly dawned on me: I can do this better than they can, yet I’m letting the nasty bitch inside my head hold me back. I’m competent, hardworking, intelligent, and tired of putting up with this absolute shitshow. Thus, WWMWMD? was born.

Go ahead, ladies, drape yourself in that unearned, audaciously scintillating confidence, and stride into any situation life presents as though you own the place. You might feel like a sheep among wolves at first. But I guarantee you that wearing that rich, warm coat of stolen fur will quickly turn you into a wolf yourself. And then? Sky’s the limit.

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Resolutions, Smesolutions

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I wrote a riveting, award winning blog post last January about the things I hoped to achieve in the new year, and despite how cliche it is, I’m writing another one about my hopes, dreams, etcetera for 2019. Scroll on if you’re bored and unimpressed by the annual banality, but I rather like taking a bit of time at the start of the year to think about how to improve upon the newly deceased set of 12 months. There are always ways we can do better, as long as we’re alive. And, sometimes, simply making it through the tough, frustrating, shockingly short year that recently passed is an event to celebrate with one’s whole heart, soul, and liquor cabinet…

So, here it is, my 2019 plan of attack:

Be a selfcare badass

Spoiler: I’m shitty at taking proper care of myself. Don’t get me wrong, I can do the basics, but as soon as I get busy, my intentions for selfcare go barreling out the window, down the street, around the corner, and out of sight. I know what set of circumstances allow me to operate at 100%: running every day (keeps anxiety at a workable minimum), reading (feeds the mind, soul, imagination), writing (see: effects of reading), eating right (and this does not mean consuming a bag of popcorn every day), and regularly stepping back from the tasty trough of crazy to enjoy the people who ride everything out with me, no matter what (allows for proper appreciation of perspective).

I know these are things I need to do with strict regularity, and yet they are the first to go when the crazy expands into an absolute, unmitigated, wailing shitshow. So, my goal for 2019 is to practice as much selfcare as possible and to do it unapologetically. I have one body, one mind, and if I break them, I’m well and truly out of luck. The version of me that’s best involves running, reading, writing, and keeping chaos at bay with the translucent strings built of words, good food, and time with friends and family. Choosing that means choosing myself, and, honestly, I haven’t done that in years. So, cheers to me, and to new beginnings.

Resist the urge to tear down my fellow Democrats

Maybe you haven’t heard, but 2020 is kind of a big deal, even more so than the 2018 midterms. Democrats are already jumping forward to announce their candidacies via exploratory committees, and the collective mob of Democratic opinion is abuzz with shit talking and intensely negative Nancying. To be fair, I’ve been very guilty of this myself. I have my favorites, and my absolute no fucking ways. But in light of the already rising toxicity, I hereby pledge to avoid adding to the tidal wave of frenzied shit talking. I refuse to tear down Democratic candidates solely based on my subjective opinion of them. I won’t contribute to that kind of bullshit publicly, and I’ll urge others to follow the same path.

This doesn’t mean I won’t share pertinent information about a candidate’s record, but this will not devolve into a bitch session. We do way too much backstabbing as Dems. It doesn’t mean we can’t all have our opinions, likes, and dislikes, but can we at least keep from separating into insular little groups from which we refuse to budge? This is the kind of shit that gave us a trump presidency. We can’t afford it in 2020. Let’s grow up. Let’s be better. I’ll go first…

Listen to my itchy feet and do some traveling

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m a military brat. Growing up, we moved every two years, from stateside to places like Okinawa, Japan and Guam, sparkling jewel of the South Pacific (not even kidding, check out the pictures). As an adult, I’ve had the fantastic luck of living in Germany and traveling all over Europe. In the last few years, however, I’ve been tied to the Sunshine State due to the nature of my employment. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do for a living, but my feet get itchy if I stand in the same place for too long. In 2018, I only left the country once, and I barely left the state. That’s disgraceful, and definitely not how I was raised. This year, I intend to travel more, to experience new things, and to escape the gilded prison of my own head by immersing myself in situations that are completely outside of my day to day life. An expanded travel itinerary means an expanded worldview, and my life is feeling way too claustrophobic these days.

Get more of my own work published

This is a perpetual resolution, made annually for the last 20 some odd years (JFC, how did I get so old?!). I’ve been writing a long while, and I’ve yet to get my so-called ‘big break’. I have made decent money writing articles, as well as self publishing my novels and short stories. Currently, I have a novel sitting with an interested agent, which is all kinds of exciting. I plan to keep on keeping on where writing is concerned. Despite a schedule that will be even crazier than last year’s, I solemnly swear to write EVERY DAMNED DAY. Already have a spreadsheet ready to track daily word counts (yes, I am that kind of nerd), and I plan to fill 2019 with thousands upon thousands of lovely sentences. Hell, I’m even happy with not so lovely sentences. That’s what editing is for.

Create the world in which I want to live

Easy peasy, right? Well, in point of fact, I actually do have a plan in the works, and it’s going to cost a helluva lot of time and copious amounts of appropriate bodily fluids (blood, sweat, tears, and the like), but I’m ready to undertake this monumental task.

Last year, I learned lesson after valuable lesson, worked with a slew of amazing people, and soldiered through more frustrating situations than I care to count or recall with clarity. All of that helped to formulate this ever evolving plan for 2019, and I’m ready to go bigger than big this year. Planning to do ALL THE THINGS, and you can join me, or you can get the hell out of the way. In any event, I’m doing this thing, because no one else can do it quite the way I can. Not a brag, just the facts, Jack. It might not be easy, but it will be an adventure…

Continue last year’s plan of doing no harm, but taking no shit

I definitely took some shit last year, but it was minimal. Some of you might find this shocking to hear, but I have strong opinions and am not afraid to make others aware of them. I plan to continue my crusade of leaving haters in the dust (they’re gonna hate no matter what, y’all) as I cruise towards my goals sparkling on the horizon. Sadly, I am merely human, and that means I internalize the negativity around me, as well as creating masses of it on my own. I want to do less of this in 2019. There are too many things I want to achieve, too many places I want to go, and too many positive changes I want to make. If you’re part of my life and you breed negativity like enthusiastic rabbits reproduce their young, prepare to be cut loose. Ain’t nobody got time for that. For those who stick with me, kindly call me on my shit, because my mind is the type that just tends to plunge towards pettiness and negativity, and ain’t nobody got time for that either. This year is going to be better, though. We’ve got this, together.

Avoid adopting several dogs

This resolution doesn’t need much more of an explanation. Please remind me of the three dogs already living in my household and save me from my baser, puppy-hoarding instincts…

Happy New year, y’all. Let’s do this, all of it. In 12 months, I plan to count 2019 as a win, and I want us standing together, fighting shoulder to shoulder when I do. The work starts today.

Whiteness is Not Americanism

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Throughout history, protest has paved the way for change, both the incremental and radical varieties. We’re all raised to revere the gumption of the Founding Fathers, with their “Live Free or Die” swagger. They stood up for their inalienable rights and, in so doing, led to the creation of this great nation. But not all forms of protest are equally revered.

A perfect example of protest that is nonviolent in nature, yet reviled, is the practice of kneeling for the National Anthem in order to bring attention to the disproportionate number of black lives ended by police officers. The act itself couldn’t be more nonviolent. The black athletes kneel when the anthem is played, and then the game goes on as planned, no disruption of regularly scheduled programming. But the backlash against this simple act was swift and immediate, with many outraged by what they called the blatant disrespect of the troops, the flag, and the nation itself.

But is that what this protest represents? Disrespect? And, if not, why is it so often framed that way?

The answer is pretty simple. In our culture, being an American is synonymous with being white. Therefore, white folks are the only ones both allowed to protest, and encouraged to do so.

Now before anyone jumps to the tired conclusion that, as a black woman, I’m just another ungrateful rabble rouser who hates this country, the flag that stands as its symbol, and the uniformed men and women who volunteer to fight and die for it, kindly slow your proverbial roll. I’m actually much more patriotic than you might assume, and there are many reasons why this is the case.

I grew up on military bases, meaning we said the pledge every morning, learned the words to every patriotic song ever created, and flew the flag 365 days a year, well before the sudden, nationwide popularization of the practice in response to the attack on September 11th. July 4th festivities brought the base to a screeching halt. Memorial Day was no joke, and it was spent honoring those who gave the ultimate sacrifice in defense of this nation and its ideals. Veterans’ Day was yet another opportunity to honor those who fought to secure the rights we take for granted on a daily basis. To say I grew up bathed in the red, white, and blue would be to utter a monumental understatement.

Growing up, I understood patriotism to mean a deep love of country, but not a blind love. Because love that isn’t paired with honest awareness of shortcomings isn’t really love. It’s a sweet form of denial that hurts the object of your affection only slightly less than it hurts you. I also understood that servicemen and women were to be honored for their willingness to put themselves in dangerous situations in order to uphold and protect the Constitution of the United States. But they are not the United States, and criticism of the government in no way equates to criticism of those who are prepared to lay down their lives for said government.

In light of all this, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that I consider myself a deeply patriotic individual. I love this country and, because I love it, I know how deeply flawed it is, and how much it needs to change if it’s to offer life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness to all its citizens. This country can be better, and I want to help it become so, lovingly but firmly. I don’t see this love of country as mutually exclusive from the right to point out its flaws. I actually think that blind love is akin to no love at all. And I categorically refuse the popular idea that you can’t honor our troops if you critique the country they’re serving.

The response to black athletes kneeling during the National Anthem is really no different from white folks criticizing the nonviolent protests led by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Or their disdain for Muhammad Ali’s unwillingness to fight in Vietnam wearing the uniform of a country that refused to afford him the same dignity that it gave its white citizens. These men are heroes now, because they are no longer a threat to the status quo, unlike Colin Kaepernick.

If you are black in this country, there is no correct way to protest, because this country is not yours to protest to begin with. It wasn’t built for you, though it was built by you. You were never meant to possess life and liberty, nor were you to pursue happiness. This country was created to belong to white people. It’s why a common response to a black person protesting is to tell him or her to return to Africa. The subtext is clear: this country is for white folks. If you don’t like the rules in our house, go back to your own.

And because this country was made for and belongs to white people, the natural conclusion is that whiteness equates to Americanism. So, it makes sense that when a person of color criticizes the hypocrisy of a nation that purports to stand for liberty and justice for all, yet doesn’t actually extend it to everyone, so many white folks are instantly apoplectic. Here is this uppity, anti-American negro messing up things in a white person’s house! How ungrateful, amirite?! That negro should be happy to even be allowed to set foot in a house that doesn’t belong to him.

The underlying message is very clear: black folks aren’t to speak up about the injustice built into the very foundation of this country. We’re lucky to be here, and we should be grateful. Period.

Well, actually, I am grateful. I live in a country that eventually did extend the right to free speech and peaceful protest to people who look like me. White folks protest daily, and it’s often seen as deeply patriotic and worthy of widespread applause. But this country was only built to revere protest when the folks doing it are white. It’s literally America’s origin story. It’s also why it’s so hard for us to talk honestly about the Civil War. Our minds work by forming knee jerk dichotomies, and you can’t celebrate one side without demonizing the other, but, in this case, both sides are white.

Protest has a long history in this country. And, provided you keep it nonviolent, I’m all for the practice of standing up to make your voice heard and fight for what you believe in. I may not agree with you, but that’s your right. Here’s the thing, though: it’s also my right. Because whiteness shouldn’t be synonymous with what it means to be an American. There are plenty of us who love this country, but want it to be better. Not just for ourselves, but for all of us. I can’t think of a more American ideal.

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Thankful AF

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So, you’re sitting across the table from the aunt who voted for Trump and your nephew who might as well have been marching with a tiki torch down the streets of Charlottesville, wondering just what the hell you have to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. The country’s a dumpster fire of bigotry and ignorance and you can’t seem to escape the suffocating smell of everything you love going up in smoke…

I’m not here to tell you this country isn’t an absolute shit show, because it is. But, if it makes you feel any better, this is nothing new. It’s been a nonstop catastrophe since Columbus sailed the ocean blue and planted a flag in land that wasn’t actually up for grabs. Some of y’all are just now noticing for the first time. Things are getting better, though, slowly but surely as time marches on and more people start paying attention to what’s right in front of them.

This is honestly my favorite time of the year. Always has been. And the end of one year naturally leads to thinking about what the next one will bring. We had some tough election results here in Florida, but we also had some real wins. There’s so much work to do before the next cycle, but I actually feel hope for the future and what we can accomplish if we just get our shit together and keep it that way. So, today, because of the holiday and my enduring love of cliches, I’m going to name a few of the things for which I’m most thankful:

My Family

None of them voted for trump (PRAISE BE) and they’ve supported me throughout my entire life, including the last 2 crazy, action packed years. This campaign/activism life is a wild ride and I intend to keep seeing where it will take me. It’s good to know I have a soft place to fall and people who accept me, no matter what.

Friends Who Have Become Family

Y’all, making new friends as an introvert isn’t easy, but I’ve been waaaaay outside of my comfort zone since November 9th, 2016, and I can honestly say that actually leaving my house has led to meeting some of the hardest working, funniest, and best people around. These are folks I couldn’t imagine not knowing. They’ve enriched my life beyond what I thought possible. I’m honored to know them and to be in this fight together, shoulder to shoulder.

Doing What I Love and Loving What I Do

This sounds cheesy af, but it’s true. For the first time ever, I’m doing work that seems vital. Even when I’m too tired to bitch (admittedly, this is rare), I feel the importance of what I’m doing, and I can’t wait to see what the future holds.

The Victory of Amendment 4

We worked so hard all last year to gather petitions and get this initiative on the ballot. 1.4 million Floridians now have the right to vote back. I’m humbled to have played a small part in dismantling a system of disenfranchisement in the state of Florida that was a remnant of the Jim Crow era. This is game changing. It’s historic. We did this, y’all. All of us, together.

Having the Freedom to Fight for What Matters to Me

Not everyone has this privilege, and I cherish the fact that, though I have certain disadvantages in this country based on skin color and gender, I’m free to voice my opinion, to fight for what I believe in, and to work hard to champion causes that will make this country better for everyone. Those of us able to speak out, to fight, to work hard, need to keep doing it on behalf of those who can’t. That’s our duty, because the freedom to do so comes on the backs of people who risked everything. Honor them with action.

I’m not going to keep y’all, mostly because the smell of turkey roasting is making it hard to concentrate. My guide to living a good life is simple: hug those close to you, cherish those far away, practice selfcare as often as you can, challenge white supremacy, and fuck the patriarchy. This country is becoming a better place every day because of you, because of me, because of all of us. I’m thankful for that too.

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Black Folks Are So Damned Tired

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Black folks are tired, y’all.

This is the kind of exhaustion you feel in your bones after carrying a heavy load for much too long, one you know you won’t be able to set aside any time soon. It’s the kind of tiredness that affects you at a visceral level, leaving you sick and frustrated.

Why are black folks so tired, you might ask? In a few words: because of white folks who would readily call themselves ‘allies’ but won’t actually engage in any real self reflection or undertake the emotional sweat equity necessary to talk to the folks who look like them in order to begin the long process of tearing down systems of widespread oppression.

That’s a mouthful, so let’s break it down…

We just had an election, and, in the Florida gubernatorial race, we had a white Republican man run on racist rhetoric reminiscent of the 2016 Republican nominee. But unlike in 2016, the Republican in Florida was actually running against a black man, so the racism had a clear focal point. In Georgia, the governor’s race between a black woman and the racist, voter suppression happy Secretary of State had the same racist undertones. And, as usual, the majority of white women voters voted for the Republican candidates (51% in FL and 75% in GA), despite the fact that this was also a vote against their own interests of autonomy over their own medical decisions, funding of public schools, protection of the environment, etc.

Because I am a glutton for punishment, I posted a clip from the Daily Show in which a white woman was talking about how voters who look like her will uphold systems of white patriarchal power because they benefit on the basis of shared whiteness, and that these limited benefits were earned on the backs of people of color. White folks need to talk to other white folks in order to start tearing down these systems, and white women specifically need to understand how they might benefit from their whiteness, but that their gender is still a liability. When they vote to uphold the status quo, they are actively voting against their own interests.

As you can imagine, the white tears and pearl clutching was immediate. Here are just a few paraphrased samples of the responses to my post:

Why are you trying to divide us right now?! We should be standing together!

You are too intelligent to be pushing away your allies at a time like this.

You don’t know my heart! I’ve been working so hard!

Tell us what the answers are! What are we supposed to do?!

Not all white women!!

And on and on.

Also, honorable mention for the white man who came onto my page to ‘stand up for women’ by attempting to shout down a woman of color in her own space (he was deleted and blocked after he attempted to PM me with more of his mansplaining bullshit; ain’t nobody got time for that).

There were white women who commented on the post in order to undertake the emotional labor of attempting to educate their fellow white women, but these initial responses from so-called, self-identified ‘allies’ were problematic on so many levels. Folks were demanding education and sources, though I’d attached a clip of a white woman explaining the issue as well as an article. But, as usual, that was not enough. So, I had to break it down in terms of sexism.

The same women who came onto my page throwing around the #NotAllWhiteWomen defense would be quick to pounce on a man who used the #NotAllMen excuse as a response to a #MeToo or #TimesUp post. Obviously, not all men are engaging in blatant sexual harassment and assault, but men still uphold rape culture and systemic sexism by not speaking up to their fellow men whenever they see questionable behavior or hear jokes and comments that are sexist, or when they simply benefit from systems of patriarchal power on the backs of the women around them. Until all of the so-called ‘good’ men stand up to other male perpetrators, women might as well be spitting into the wind. We can’t tear down systems of widespread oppression set up by men to control us. We need men to undertake that labor, and the work is constant.

In the same way, people of color can’t be expected to tear down systems of oppression put in place by white folks. We can call out the problems as we see them, but we can’t talk to most white folks in a way that they will actually hear and acknowledge what is being said.

Case in point: my social media post, which was a list of statistics about how white women voted in the last two election cycles, a clip in which a white woman called out other white women for voting to uphold patriarchal systems of power to their own detriment, and an article. From the responses, it was clear that the real problem for certain white women was not the racism itself, but my uppity audacity in daring to call out that racism. That level of knee jerk defensiveness is exhausting, mostly because of how predictable it is.

If we want to do better in this country, it starts with a long hard look in the mirror. We all have layers of privilege. I might be at a disadvantage due to my race and sex, but as a straight black woman who is not disabled, I am still the recipient of a certain amount privilege, and if I hear someone who is not LGBTQ or disabled speaking in ways that are bigoted towards those groups, it is my responsibility to put a stop to it. I don’t understand what is so hard to grasp about this concept. The onus is not on other marginalized groups to do all of the emotional labor. Being straight is currently the ‘default’ in this country, so it’s my responsibility to speak to other straight folks about their homophobia or transphobia. They will listen to me in a way they might not listen to someone from the LGBTQ community. If I don’t have a strategy for speaking to other straight people about how unacceptable it is to be hateful to someone on the basis of their sexual orientation or gender identity, I can simply consult my BFF Google for answers. Under no circumstances do I demand that a member of the LGBTQ community take on the emotional labor of educating me.

If the act of a person of color pointing out racism makes you defensive, you need to undertake some self reflection to understand why that is, and that needs to be done on your own time. It’s not the POC’s responsibility to soothe you or educate you. If you really want to be an ally to marginalized groups, then you need to listen when they speak, and then you need to be willing to do the work necessary to change things. Sometimes that’s simply having conversations with the white folks around you. If you are afraid to do that, imagine how difficult it is for POCs. Not only do we have to have conversations with white folks who discriminate against us on the basis of skin color, but we also have to deal with so-called ‘allies’ who discount us because what we are saying doesn’t fit the ‘we are all in this together’ sunshine narrative to which they subscribe. If we really are ‘in this together’, then white folks who truly want to see racial equality need to start shouldering their part of the burden, because black folks are tired.

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