The Undercover Introvert

On Being Black in America

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I was recently asked to sit on a panel by a local group that was hosting a discussion about what it’s like to be black in America. Mostly older white folks would be in attendance, and I was invited to be as real as possible in my comments. If you’ve read any of my other articles, you know that level of honestly isn’t hard for me to achieve, but I wanted to make sure I didn’t lighten my part of the discussion with humor, as I am wont to do, because of how receptive it makes people to what I’m saying. I wanted to deliver gut punches that left the audience gasping. I wanted to bring them low, where I sometimes find myself. And I really wanted this mostly white audience to understand that being black in America means understanding and accepting a myriad of things:

This country is not for you.

Living in America is a lot like inexplicably finding yourself in someone else’s house. You understand that this isn’t your house, so you’d better be on your best behavior or you might be forcibly ejected. You have to explain why you deserve to be in the house in the first place, and you don’t dare make the owners of the house feel uncomfortable, no matter how they act towards you.

2. You are routinely treated as though black folks are a monolith, meaning that when one POC does something, it’s treated as though it’s representative of the entire group.

White folks will use the preference or statement of one POC as evidence against you when you call them out on their racism. For example:

You: what you just said was really racist.

White person: but I say that around my black friend and he doesn’t have a problem with it.

This never works in the opposite direction.

You: do you want some of this dish I made?

White person: No, thanks. I don’t like eggplant.

You: what? My other white friend loves eggplant. I don’t understand why you don’t…?

This shitty phenomena is a prime example of othering. Because this is the white folks’ house and they make the rules, they get to be individuals, with their own hopes, fears, strengths, and weaknesses. But one bad apple will ruin the entire orchard where POCs are concerned. And you will be held personally accountable for anything terrible that another black person does.

3. You will face constant microaggressions.

There will be so many examples of the hostile and casually racist microaggression in your day to day life, but here are just a few of the most common:

-You will be ‘othered’. Since America isn’t your house, you will be treated like a suspicious outsider who must be watched, questioned, and disbelieved.

-You will walk into a store and not be noticed by employees who will then run to assist a white customer who comes in after you. Or, worse, you will be followed, treated with open suspicion, told to buy something immediately or get out while white customers are left to browse in peace.

-White people will be surprised to find out that you have a college degree and that it’s not in African Studies.

-White people will assume you have many kids, all from different partners.

-You will receive backhanded compliments such as:

You’re pretty for a black girl!
Wow, you are so articulate!
You don’t even act black!

-Upon first meeting, before even asking your name, a white person will demand to know: What are you?

4. You will be expected to drop everything to educate white folks no matter the time, place, or what you are doing.

Google exists for a reason and there are thousands of articles, books, and blog posts on the subject of how to identify and work through implicit racial bias. But instead of using any of these free resources, white people will expect you to take on the burden and heavy emotional labor of instructing them on how to best go about bettering themselves.

5. White folks will feel the need to share with you every racist interaction they encounter throughout their day when you are literally just trying to get through your own life.

They will lose their minds over every social media post, every news story about an unarmed black man getting shot by a police officer, every racially charged comment overheard in the store. And they will bring all of this to you, laying it onto your already heavy shoulders.

This kind of fanatical outrage is especially troubling because it places the white person at the center of a discussion about blatant racism, leaving the POC in the position of comforting that person. You know racism exists from daily experience, and it’s exhausting to get all of this secondhand racism on top of the firsthand racism you are already dealing with. This exhaustion is compounded by the soothing of the white person that you will have to undertake just to extricate yourself from a conversation that you didn’t want to have in the first place.

6. You will be perpetually asked to rubber stamp a white person’s questionable conduct as not racist. Usually, this conduct actually is racist, but that isn’t what you are there to say. You are there to comfort the white person and provide them with assurances that they are not being racist. This evidence will likely be used in the future against another black person who later calls out this white person on some racist conduct. Because all POC are the same, remember?

7. You become used to hard facts at an early age, such as:

-Your skin color is a liability that leads to and justifies poor and unfair treatment.

-In a dispute, especially if it involves law enforcement, your word will never be accepted over that of a white person’s.

-The cardinal sin is making a white person feel uncomfortable. Your job as a POC is to soothe white people and never allow them to feel guilty, even when they are the perpetrators of gross indignities. Remember: this isn’t your house.

-You will be told to be grateful for what you have, as though you haven’t earned it with your own merit. You are lucky to even be here. Never forget that.

-You will be made to explain to your children why their skin color puts them at a disadvantage, and you will need to deal with the inevitable aftermath of the first time your child is called the N word. And it will happen before they reach double digits.

8. Being black in America means understanding your place in this country for what it truly is. It means being uncomfortable in a house that doesn’t belong to you, but finding a way to live your life anyway. It means fighting for meaningful change but not expecting it any time soon, though you keep pushing. It means not giving up.

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‘Divisive’: the New ‘STFU’

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Over the last eighteen months of nonstop activism and exhausting levels of advocacy, I’ve noticed a trend rearing its butt ugly head pretty consistently whenever tough subjects come up. Maybe you have too. It involves lobbing the word divisive into the middle of a conversation like a flash bomb so you can make a quick getaway while attention is focused on the fire you started. And, honestly, it’s the new way to tell someone you don’t agree with to STFU, only it gives you the added bonus of taking the high road when you were actually the one out of line.

What exactly does this look like?

I mostly notice it in conversations about extremely uncomfortable subjects, like racism or sexism. My interlocutor and I can be grooving along, exchanging words and ideas as we work around every side of an issue, but if I throw a monkey wrench into the smoothly working gears of their casual racism, all of a sudden, I’m the problem, not their original behavior or ignorant comments.

Still not picking up what I’m putting down? Here’s a case in point:

Person of color: can you believe that a black man was shot 20 times the other day and all he had on him was a cell phone?

White person: I’m not saying he deserved to be shot and killed, but he probably shouldn’t have been out at that time of night vandalizing property.

POC: Seriously? A white kid can walk into a church, kill 9 people, and the cops somehow manage to bring him in without firing a single shot. But a black kid can’t have a cellphone, or a hoodie and a pack of Skittles, or ‘name anything else’ without getting gunned down.

WP: Why does everything have to be about race?

POC: Are you really unable to see the way race plays into large scale inequities in the criminal justice system, starting with how people of color are treated by the police?

WP: Why are you being so divisive? I’m on your side and you’re attacking me.

Smooth, right?

To onlookers, it appears as though the POC is the one out of line, and her poor interlocutor, who is on her side, is being verbally brutalized for no good reason. Black people are always so angry!

And did you catch the D word at the end? That means STFU.

You might be rolling your eyes right about now, but some variation of the above conversation happens just about every time I bring up race, even among so called ‘woke’ white folks. Why is that, you might be asking? Because racism is fucking terrible, and white people tend to feel shitty when they realize how their words and behavior work to hold up systems of long held oppression.

When you find a way to demonize the black victim of a police shooting (he shouldn’t have been selling illegal cigarettes) but give white suspects the benefit of the doubt (how did society fail this quiet, young, christian loner?!), that’s racism.

When you champion white voices speaking out about gun violence (and y’all know I’m talking about the Parkland kids who have acknowledged their privilege, unlike so many of the adults supporting them; keep on keeping on, kids) but label young folks uniting under the Black Lives Matter umbrella as thugs and criminals, that’s racism.

Calling me divisive when I speak about the reality of being black in this country is just another way of telling me to be quiet. Mostly likely because what I’m saying makes you uncomfortable. But 2016 threw us into the Upsidedown, folks. Uncomfortable is good! We like uncomfortable. We grow when we’re uncomfortable.

Here’s my advice: be uncomfortable. Bathe in that prickly uneasiness until you can actually feel the years of ingrained, socially programmed racist knee jerk responses begin to fall away. I don’t fault anyone for being born in the skin they were given. White folks have held a privileged position in this country since before it was the US of A, and the foundation of that privilege was built on the backs of black and brown people. There’s no changing what has already been written. But you can change what happens in the future. You can shut down ignorant comments and behavior, starting with your own. You can get called out on your shit and actually allow yourself to be uncomfortable in the short term in order to become a better, more open minded and fair person in the long term.

You can decide that racism is shitty and do better.

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Democrats Need to Celebrate Black People All Year Long

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Hello, Democrats, and Happy Black History month!

We’ve made a point in this country of officially celebrating black achievement and excellence throughout the month of February since 1976. But, as Democrats, we should really be celebrating black folks all twelve months of the year. Why is that, you ask? Well, despite the difficulties faced by black voters, they have historically turned out to vote, and they overwhelmingly vote Democrat.

As a rule, black folks don’t vote against their own interests. This gets proven time and again with every single election. Don’t forget, it was black people — and especially black women — who turned out to vote in the Senate race in Alabama last December, and we showed up and showed out in the 2016 presidential election as well, supporting the Democratic candidate in both races. We get called the backbone of the Democratic Party — a lot; most notably and recently by Democratic National Committee Chairman Tom Perez — and no truer words have ever been spoken. This is even more impressive when you consider the widespread voter suppression designed specifically to target communities of color. Gerrymandering, the loss of vital parts of the Voting Rights Act, strict voter ID laws, and disenfranchisement after felony convictions all play a part in making sure black people never make it to the ballot box.

And yet, many of us still do.

Did you enjoy watching Ralph Northam win the governorship in Virginia last November?

Thank black voters.

Did you breathe a sigh of relief when Doug Jones narrowly won over Roy Moore in Alabama?

Thank black voters, black women specifically, who we all know are magic.

Were you disappointed when trump won in 2016?

Well, guess who handled their collective business? If you guessed black voters, you win a prize.

We show up, and we vote democrat. So, why aren’t we regularly placed in positions of leadership? Why aren’t our issues valued across the board? Why is everyone ready to clap black women on the back for the Doug Jones victory, but disappear the instant we assert that Black Lives Matter?

What I’m suggesting is not to briefly sanctify us after every election because 98% of us voted against a child predator last December and 95% of us voted for Clinton in 2016 while 64% of white women instead voted for a train wreck. Don’t put us on a pedestal and then forget us until the next time you need us to turn out to vote. Valuing us means investing in our lives and our experiences, even in off years, even outside of the month of February. It means not recoiling or closing ranks when we attempt to take a seat at the table. It means practicing what you preach if what you preach is equality for all.

I’ve spent the last year and a half traveling almost exclusively in progressive circles. And I’ve been surprised and saddened to see how little diversity there is in many of our local groups. Contrary to popular belief, diversity doesn’t just mean looking out into a crowd and seeing a black or a brown face. It doesn’t just mean including us in pictures. It means seeing people of color in positions of leadership. It means valuing black lives and standing behind us in solidarity when we take center stage to demand equal treatment, not ushering us backstage to play a supporting role, as we’ve done since before the birth of this nation.

We’ve done a lot of desperate soul searching as a party since the devastating loss in 2016. We’ve struggled to regain our footing while simultaneously trying to figure out what happened and where everything went horribly wrong. But instead of looking behind us, we should instead focus on what’s ahead.

I submit that the answer to the question of how to win future elections lies in truly embracing equality across the Democratic Party’s platform, and that means understanding and appreciating a concept called intersectionality. I’m sure you’ve heard this term before, because it’s a buzzword that gets thrown around a great deal all of a sudden, but rarely seems to be understood.

Truly welcoming marginalized communities into the fold is the key to winning elections. We have to understand and acknowledge that inequalities based on race, class, sex, disability, gender identity, and sexual preference often intersect to increase injustice for many among us, and those voices need to be heard and valued. Not just in the month of February or during National Hispanic Heritage Month or National Pride Month or during an important election year.

Those of us who face daily discrimination on multiple fronts should be encouraged to speak, to run for office, to spearhead initiatives that will help other people who look like us. We aren’t window dressing for the Democratic Party. We are the Democratic Party. We aren’t easily swayed by artifice or tactics reminiscent of snake oil salesmen blowing through town every four years. There is power in our self-possession, our unending loyalty, our love of family, our courage to stand up in the face of widespread discrimination, and our deep reverence for this country.

We keep coming back to the Democratic Party. We aren’t showing up to the ballot box to save White America, as the news outlets reporting the Doug Jones victory would have you believe. We’re showing up to save ourselves the only way we know how — by choosing the candidate who most closely represents our interests and our values. For many of us, this is life and death, the difference between prosperity and ruin.

So, as Black History Month 2018 comes to a close, don’t let that be the end of your appreciation of black excellence and achievement. When you look around you and see no POCs in positions of leadership, ask yourself why that is. Step back when voices that don’t mirror your own are speaking, and truly listen. Instead of momentarily holding black people up after elections, try supporting them as they run for office or champion their issues. The Democratic Party will thrive when diverse voices are appreciated, encouraged, and heard. Black History is American History and American History is Black History. Our successes and failures are intertwined with your own, our futures irreversibly bound, and none of us is free until we all are.

**This is adapted from a speech I gave to my local Democratic Party

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Now That You’ve Marched, Organize

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I marched in one of the hundreds of Women’s Marches on January 21st, 2017, surrounded by thousands of fellow activists. We were pissed off, empowered, and vocal in our demands. For so many of us, it was our first time getting political. Last year, the march felt like the beginning of a movement. It was powerful. You could feel the energy humming in the air, as though change was rushing forward with deliberate speed. We were going to make a difference, that collective energy assured us, and the next 4 years was going to serve as proof of our commitment.

For many of us who marched, the next 12 months bore no resemblance to what our lives had once been. We got involved, we found initiatives to support and groups to join that were doing good, necessary work. We put our representatives on notice, calling, writing, and visiting their offices as often as we could. We tracked legislation. We joined our local Democratic parties and dove into canvassing and phone banking to get good people elected and find additional volunteers. Many took the ultimate step and decided to run for office. Resisting and community organizing became our part time jobs on top of the full time jobs we were already working to support our families. We kept the promises we made to ourselves and each other during those marches, when we could feel the power running through the crowds.

I have to admit, I wasn’t excited for the Women’s March this year. It frustrated me to see that many of the folks who were the most eager to attend were ones I hadn’t seen do much at all in the 12 months since the inaugural march. Some of these folks contact me from time to time to ask when the next march or protest is. They have their signs ready to go, they assure me, and want to know who we’re going to stick it to this time. When I tell these folks about a petition gathering event for a ballot initiative or encourage them to canvass to get a municipal candidate in office, they are not interested in getting involved. I’ve learned over the last year that there are many people who only want to attend marches. I don’t understand this, because marches don’t actually change anything. Hard work and organizing in your community makes change. Getting people into office who will represent your values and do what is best for their constituents makes changes. And, bonus, once these people are in office, we won’t have to march or protest to show our displeasure at how out of touch they are. That’s the point of all this, isn’t it?

Marching is cathartic. The energy is infectious in that big crowd and many of those marching are also working hard in their communities. It’s good to have an event to blow off steam that’s built up over the last several months of bone wearing work. Attending that first Women’s March was transformative for me, and it lit a fire under my ass that is still blazing. I know that to be true for many of my sisters and brothers in arms, and I’m thankful for them because they keep me motivated when the struggle seems endless and futile.

But marching simply to march doesn’t create change. A march without follow on action doesn’t do anything at all.

So, if you find yourself fired up after this year’s Women’s Marches, take that energy and funnel it into organizing in your community. Midterm elections are insanely important and we’re running out of time to get ready. All 435 seats are up for grabs in the US House of Representatives as well as 33 seats in the US Senate. There are 14 gubernatorial races this year, as well as hundreds of state Senate and House seats, and thousands of county and municipal offices. Everything is at stake. Let that electric energy carry you into this year with renewed focus. Get involved, if you haven’t already. It’s not too late. Your local Democratic Party needs you desperately. Your local branch of the ACLU or NAACP. And if no one is organizing in the way you think your community needs, pull some friends together and create your own group. It’s hard work, but rewarding. You’ll meet some of the greatest people you’ve ever known. You’ll be inspired each and every day. And when that change starts rolling in on that fabled Blue Wave, you will know you did your part, which is a feeling I can’t describe to those who haven’t yet felt it.

Marching engenders solidarity, but that solidarity is merely illusory if you don’t turn that heady feeling into action. I’m illogically optimistic for the direction of this country. I’ve seen what can happen in 12 short months when a determined group of ragtag members of the resistance work tirelessly. So, don’t just march, organize.

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Lessons Learned from a Year of Insane Activism

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When I say this year has been bananas, I’m not kidding. In the last twelve months of focused, frenzied, nonstop activism, I’ve learned lesson after valuable lesson about what it means to truly make change in my community and beyond. This kind of rapid learning on the fly is what happens when you get thrown into the deep end to sink or swim, right? Turns out, I can swim, but not as fast as I’d like. Yet. Still, the experience has been invaluable, even if a little batshit crazy. Here are some of the things I know now that I didn’t know this time last year:

You can’t champion every cause

Initially, I joined every organization I could find (and even helped start one) and went to meetings or an activity every night of the week and all day on the weekends. This feverish insanity went on for months. It helped to fully immerse myself in the local political climate, becoming knowledgeable about all of the issues that mattered. Unfortunately for poor, introverted me, there were way too many issues that I cared about. I ran myself ragged and fell into a perpetual state of bleary eyed exhaustion that wasn’t emotionally or physically healthy, nor was it sustainable long term. It took going through a hurricane to realize that I needed to prioritize and carve out personal time or I was going to burn out all together.

People will disappoint you

I’ve met more people in the last year than I have in the last decade. No joke. Riddled with anxiety and unable to remember a person’s name for the first twenty times I ‘meet’ them, I think I’m doing pretty damned well holding it together socially. I’ve met some seriously kickass people since the 2016 election. These folks are closer to me right now than people I’ve known for decades. We’ve been battle tested and run through the ringer together. I’m stuck to these fellow activists like glue and would drop everything to show up when they needed me.

But there are also people whose conduct, lack of interest, overall shitty attitude, and unwillingness to follow through on anything they commit to doing are constant sources of frustration. My mother didn’t raise a goldbricker, so if I say I’m going to do something, I damned well do it. I can’t understand people who don’t show up or complete a task they’ve volunteered to undertake, but they are out there. Everywhere. I’ve tried to come to terms with this, but it still burns me up every time.

You won’t always get it right

This was another lesson internalized the hard way. I don’t think there’s a task I’ve taken on this year that has been done the right, most expedient way the first time. I recalculate. I reassess. I go at it from another direction, keeping in mind what didn’t work the last time. It’s labor intensive and aggravating to the point that I’ve considered tearing my hair out by the handful or screaming my throat to bloody ribbons. Instead, I soldier on, wiser for the inevitable fuck ups, because what else is there to do?

You will fail over and over again

Seriously, this kind of work is unpaid and unforgiving. You try, you fail, and you try again. That’s the long and short of it. Get used to falling short, to nonstop hustling that never manages to reach the goal, to pouring blood, sweat, tears, and expletives into the cause only to end up right back where you started. Don’t let it discourage you. Just keep on keeping on.

There is always work to be done

I’ve learned to juggle more causes than I’d have believed myself capable of a year ago. And when one campaign ends, another three are right there to take its place. Causes multiply depending on the number of organizations you join, and the tasks are never ending. Training is sparse, there are no guidebooks, and you’re going to do a lot of guesswork, but when in doubt, act like you know what the hell you’re talking about. You’ll figure it out along the way. I sure as hell did.

You will be more fulfilled than you ever imagined

This is the real shocker from 2017. I’m exhausted, running on caffeine, chocolate, and cheese, constantly frustrated, and feeling like I’m being pulled in thirty different directions at once. But I’ve also never been more certain that my life is serving some higher purpose than I am right now. I honestly feel like I’m making a real difference, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything in the world, even though I sorely miss my cozy little existence of binging on books and Netflix while ignoring the rest of the world.

You will realize that giving up isn’t an option

After every heartbreaking loss or setback, I’ve found that my resolve only strengthens. I’m not quite sure what happened to the Negative Nancy I used to be 12 short months ago, but nowadays getting pushed down only makes me spring back up with even more piss, vinegar, and old fashioned determination. I will see this through, whatever the cost to my personal life or sanity, because I already know the high price of complacency.

I have many more lessons to learn, causes for which to fight, and frustrations to mitigate with lengthy happy hours spent bitching, commiserating, and planning with my fellow activists on balconies shaded from the Florida sunshine. I wouldn’t have it any other way, honestly and truly.

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