Undoing Stereotypes and Celebrating Our Unique Identities

When I met my husband, we bonded over our shared passion for music.  Tino and I jammed to Afrobeats, old EDM hits and hip hop, but beyond those specific genres, our taste in music diverged.  Whenever I played ‘90s alternative rock, my European husband would declare, ‘Not that sad American high school music!’ and swiftly switch to 90s R&B.  The recognition of  our personal preferences in music further demonstrated what I instinctively knew, that hobbies and interests should not be defined as “white” or ‘Black”.  However, for several centuries, certain activities and modes of behavior have been ascribed to either a Black or white category; with “acting white” always being in opposition to “being Black”. 

As a rite of passage, adolescents often try out different identities until they eventually settle into a mature version of themselves.  Unfortunately for Black teenagers throughout the United States, there is the added pressure of self-discovery within predetermined racial categories of behavior.  Growing up in Brooklyn, in the early 2000s, I stuck out like a sore thumb among my peers. I had a huge Afro, and I wore clothing from Abercrombie and Fitch (since their jeans fit my 5’10” svelte body).  Years of attending summer camps with kids from Long Island and Pennsylvania, fostered my appreciation for the music of Queen and The Beatles.  Then when I returned to my peers in Brooklyn, some of my associates would quip that I “acted like a white girl’ and that wasn’t a compliment.  Despite my experiences with colorism as a dark skinned Black girl and being terribly gawky, I never aspired to be a white girl.  I loved my Blackness, and I was just being the truest version of my quirky 15 year-old self.  

Years later, I would still encounter the narrative of what society deemed to be ‘Black’ experiences and what were ‘white’.  As a 21-year-old I flew to New York from Atlanta for a medical school interview.   Since it wasn’t my first interview, I felt pretty prepared for the standard questions. The interviewer, a white male, questioned me about my education and academic pursuits, which I answered with ease.  However, early into the interview, there was a discernible shift.  He wanted to know how it was growing up with a single mother in Brooklyn.  I was taken aback, as my mind started to swirl.  I didn’t know how to answer his question.  As shocking as it may appear, never in my 21 years of life had it occurred to me that I was a product of a ‘single parent home’.  To me, that label connoted deprivation and disadvantages that I never experienced.  I struggled to superimpose this stereotype of a Black childhood on my own life.  I knew that I hadn’t grown up with two parents, but they had been married when I was born.  I had access to healthcare; I ate organic food; had traveled abroad; wore nice clothing and lived in a safe neighborhood in an apartment my mother owned.  

So, my response to that interviewer was, “it was fine”.  However, that answer didn’t sate his appetite.  He was persistent in his desire to know of the difficulties I had experienced in that environment. Finally it dawned on me that this man had composed a narrative of my life prior to meeting me.  Based on my race, he was angling for a story of woe and poverty porn.  He needed a way to make sense of me and how I had arrived before him as a medical school candidate.  For him, I was not an applicant with good grades and adequate test scores; as a woman of African ancestry, my lived experiences had to be peculiarly “Black”. Reflecting on these incidents and others I have experienced over the years, I believe the much maligned critical race theory (CRT) can be used to disrupt some of the negative tendencies that align Blackness with negativity and whiteness with all things positive.

For starters:

1)Understand that race is a social construct

Contrary to the accepted belief of many, possessing fair skin does not make an individual innately more intelligent or more cultured.  Racial roles are limiting, and can prevent people from being their authentic individual selves. As outlined in a Boston Globe article, when persons of color participate in wellness activities, like yoga it isn’t ‘acting white”;  neither is growing one’s own food; going to a cafe; listening to rock music; or enjoying camping and hiking. 

2) Remove “whiteness” or white people from a pedestal

Due to structural racism, the actions of one Black person is typically assigned to the entire race (like the Will Smith/Chris Rock incident). However, if a white person commits a crime or does something stupid, he/she is regarded as an individual and not representative of the group.  

The impermeable nature of whiteness, allows white individuals to be just that, individuals prone to error, faux pas and mess ups.  On the other hand, some people of color walk around on eggshells, hoping not to appear “too Black”, finding comfort in being the “token Black”, and demonstrating that they are not like “other Black people”.  The need to constantly self-check and self-censure, stems from holding whiteness and white people to a higher standard.  People of color must come to see that all people are flawed, and no one group has cornered the market on negative or positive behaviors regardless of its race or ethnicity.   Black people should not live their lives worrying about the white gaze or being defined by it. 

This past weekend, we attended the wedding of two friends, also an interracial and intercultural pair.  Over the course of two days, the couple proudly represented their respective culture with all of its nuances, while equally embracing their partner’s cultural traditions. There was a traditional Yoruba engagement ceremony and the next day an ethnically Spanish ceremony with a reception that catered to both continents.  In both settings the husband and wife were given space to be their authentic selves: a Spanish woman whining to Afrobeats and a Nigerian American man fist pumping to EDM.  And for that moment in time, lines blurred.  That entire weekend, friends and families mingled seamlessly.  Their intention was clear: to cheer on two individuals embarking on a life together, without preconceived notions of love and racial identity.

‘Keeping Up with the Joneses’: Money & Mental Health

Over the past five weeks I’ve had a financial awakening of sorts.  My husband and I started an e-commerce business.  I ‘hired and fired’ a financial planner aka insurance salesman; and started to educate myself about personal finance.  Between reading about creating passive income; how to budget more effectively; and how to use the markets to grow wealth, I started to become overwhelmed by the ubiquitous ‘countdown to retirement’ clock.   

I asked myself, ‘Am I doing all it takes to ensure a comfortable retirement and to create generational wealth’?  Despite my generally frugal ways, I began to regret every trip, every dinner, and every night out with friends.  In a society where everything feels like it is about ‘the haves and the have nots’, how does money and people’s financial acumen affect their mental health? 

1)‘Wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants.’ --Epictetus

According to U.S.  government data, the median living wage necessary for a comfortable life is $67,690.  However, for many working professionals, the goal is to make a yearly salary in excess of six figures.  With more money, it is expected that individuals will secure better housing in safer neighborhoods, and with good schools for their children to attend. There would also be access to healthier foods, premiere health insurance, which allows the necessary screenings for chronic illnesses.  And when natural disasters increase  with annual frequency, individuals who have more money would easily evacuate areas ahead of time, avoiding bodily harm.

In the United States, countless studies have proven that having access to money can guarantee a longer and healthier life in the world’s wealthiest nation. In environmental matters like the cleanliness of tap water or an individual’s proximity to toxic dump sites, access to money irrefutably improves one’s life and overall well being.  

However, when it comes to possessions and the ‘stuff’ that fill our homes and garages, do any of these items necessarily improve our wellbeing?  We are expected to have big houses that we can’t furnish; clothing that we will never or rarely wear; and cars that we barely drive. Unlike previous generations, we are responsible for squirreling away our own retirement funds, instead of expecting a hefty pension in our later years. All of these external factors can affect one’s day to day life, mental well being, and perceived satisfaction with one's  life quality. I have often thought of Robin Williams, Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain, who suffered with their own mental health issues and substance abuse disorders, resulting in death by suicide.  Yet to many of us looking on from our middle class existence, it may seem unimaginable that possessing material wealth would not be enough to stave off deep sadness and the existential question ‘what is the meaning of life?’

2) “Too many people spend money they earned..to buy things they don't want..to impress people that they don't like.” --Will Rogers

Of all the cities in the United States, I chose to live in Miami. It’s a city of excess. The bridge connecting Brickell to Downtown goes up several times a day for the passage of massive mega yachts.  On our walks back from Whole Foods, my husband often points out speeding cars with seven figure price tags.  

A few years ago, a friend visiting from out of town said, “I couldn’t live here [Miami], I’d constantly feel poor.”  However, in our humble Downtown neighborhood, surrounded by rapidly erected skyscrapers; people speeding by in luxury cars; and with the occasional invite to rooftop parties, I feel very much at home.  We’ve chosen to live here for the sunshine, the palm trees, the blue skies, walkability and the relatively lower cost of living (in comparison to San Francisco, Los Angeles and NYC).  And the biggest bonus: access to warm Caribbean water, be it in the bay or ocean.  So despite being surrounded by the perceived glitz and glam, living in Miami positively affects our mental health, especially during the winter months.  

Ironically because so many people here pretend to be more affluent than they are, with the constant ostentatious displays of wealth, it can feel farcical unlike the established wealth of older cities [NYC, Chicago].  I’ve come to realize that like the buildings on Miami Beach, many lives here might be built on porous foundations.  

3)”Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted.”--Albert Einstein

When I was in medical school, there was a specific salary amount that I wanted to earn when I finished my training.  I naively believed that this amount of money would wash away all of my troubles.  This year, I earned my ‘dream salary’.  Yet, almost 13 years later, that golden number doesn’t feel like quite ‘enough’.  Is this partly due to inflation, and the soaring prices for housing and transportation?  Is the need for more money compounded by the crunch of student loan debt?  Or is it the ever looming presence of social media millionaires?

As perfectly explained in a Quartz article, “At no other point in history have the underclasses of society better understood how the wealthy live. The chimera of life’s material desires is everywhere thanks to the prismatic filters of Instagram and Snapchat. They range from the infinitely absurd—stacks of cash on yachts moored in Monaco—to the mundane, made exotic, like lattes sprinkled with gold flakes. This is the currency of social media: the privilege of enviable experience hoarded by the already rich and influential.” 

With social media working as the best marketing tool ever, this external push to ‘possess more and  more’, can only be likened to a poison, slowly leaching away at our collective mental well being. We are constantly encouraged to consume, albeit objects or experiences, in an economy based on our perpetual FOMO. 

Despite the external pressures to appear like a well heeled doctor, I’m grateful for my community, that keeps me stable.  I’m blessed to have friends, who enjoy nice things but are also into making prudent financial choices.  My mother often says that even billionaires can only wear one pair of pants at a time or drive one car at a time.  And my partner who always reminds me of intangibles like kindness and generosity of spirit, are really what matter in this lifetime.  When the ‘possession’ anxiety [need to amass more stuff] sets in, I step back and remind myself of the invaluable work I do helping others on a daily basis. I think of  the trade off of freedom for more money and understanding that buying things is not a long term mental health fix.

Cultural Collision and Parenting Styles

Anais or Ianthe, if we have a girl.  Alessio or Assan, if we have a boy.   

Like most couples, my husband and I fantasize about our future children. We often wonder how they will look?  Will our son have frenetic energy like Tino or will our daughter be calm like me?  While whimsically exploring the aspects of having offspring, we have begun to contemplate the less glamorous elements of parenthood.  Although Tino and I agree on the basic tenets needed to raise kind and empathic human beings, our different cultural backgrounds present disparate perspectives on how to do so.  As an Afro-Caribbean woman raised in Brooklyn and he, a German man raised in Hamburg, through frank discussions, we have begun to broach the subject of different parenting styles, as we enter another stage in our lives. 

1)Discipline

I have a close knit group of friends that are the progeny of African and Caribbean immigrants. Even now, as 30somethings, my friends and I still trade stories about our childhood punishments. For us, a beating as punishment for bad grades or disrespectful behavior was a fundamental part of childhood.  Each person’s experience may have varied in intensity and frequency of the beatings doled out; but nonetheless, at some point, we all were hit with a flip flop or a belt, before turning 18 years old.  On the other hand, my husband has never been physically disciplined.  Despite yelling back at his mother as an adolescent, unthinkable in a Afro-Caribbean household, and getting into trouble at school, his biggest punishment was being grounded in his room for a few days.  In Germany, corporal punishment is deemed barbaric, and Tino subscribed to this belief early in our relationship.

Possessing conflicting beliefs on discipline based on our cultural backgrounds, how did we reach a compromise on such an important issue? 

•  First, Tino and I understand that we will have to wait and see the temperament of our child(ren).  A sensitive child may respond differently to spankings, in comparison to an oppositional/defiant being. 

• Secondly, the way that my mother punished me was relatively effective and could be tweaked to a more updated form.  As a pre-teen, I received lashes that were congruent with my age, typically dispensed with an explanation of the infraction.

• Finally, we agree that ‘talking back’; using profanity; and slamming doors, will not be allowed in our household. These behaviors will be checked, using a variety of disciplinary measures.  However, the verdict is still out on how we will manage a child’s poor academic performance.

II) Pressure to achieve greatness

As a teenager, if I received a 91 on a test, my mother would ask, ‘where are the other 9 points?’  Like the Russian and Chinese students in my AP classes, as first generation Americans, our families expected us to excel academically; secure spots at prestigious universities and pursue careers in high earning fields.  For the majority of my young adult life, the goal was to become a physician, which I doggedly pursued. I attended summer programs geared towards medicine; took extra Advanced Placement classes; worked at a doctor’s office, and essentially centered my young life on a career path in medicine. 

Tino, on the other hand, grew up in a country, where his family has resided for hundreds of years.  At his grandmother’s home, there are books from the 1700s and framed pictures of his ancestors in horse drawn carriages. During his early years, he was disinterested in school, resulting in poor grades, truancy and being defiant to authority.  Furthermore, he did not worry about being punished or disappointing his parents if he brought home grades that were less than stellar.  He had no existential pressure to succeed in a foreign country.  We joke often about the fact that we would not have been friends during our high school years. 

Now as adults, we can examine the positives and negatives of our parents’ approach to education and success.  In our home, how will we approach success if our children aren’t academically gifted? 

• If our children struggle academically, we have the means to provide them with tutoring and extra help.  However, we don’t want our children to ascribe their self worth solely to their accomplishments at school. 

• We agree that having good grades will be important in our household.  However, we will seek to maintain a healthy balance between encouraging academic excellence, while ensuring that our children know that our love is unconditional, and will not be rescinded if a grade is subpar.  

III) Human sexuality and body positivity  

“Nackidei! Nackidei alle sind heut Nackidei, Keiner findet etwas dabei” means “Nakedness! Everyone is naked today and no one is bothered!”  

Growing up in 1990s Germany, Tino, like most children, watched an animated public service announcement which sought to teach them about body positivity and embracing their naked bodies.  In the United States, a cartoon such as this, even today, would elicit outrage from conservatives and religious groups.  As a recent immigrant to the United States, Tino has struggled with the nation’s puritanical stance on human sexuality and nudity.  During his childhood it was commonplace for young children to run around without clothing, especially on camping trips and in the home.  Furthermore, it was not uncommon for German children to see their parents’ naked bodies.

Growing up between Brooklyn and Barbados, my upbringing around the topics of nudity and sexuality were starkly different from Tino’s.  In Barbados, I recall the silly names my caretakers used to reference sexual organs, and the shame ascribed to those parts of the body.  In Brooklyn, as a pre-teen girl, I was always reminded to be chaste, at the risk of being called ‘hot’, ‘fast’ or a ‘hoe’.  Then on my summer trips to Senegal, a predominantly Muslim country, I was encouraged to dress conservatively.  At times, it felt as though humans existed without genitalia, as most people walked around in long amorphous robes.  My parents’ strict beliefs about sexuality and nudity, finally extended to the belief that I should remain a virgin until well into my 20s.

Now as an adult, my take on human sexuality has evolved considerably from the strict upbringing of my youth.  Coming from such different backgrounds, how will Tino and I broach the topics of sexuality and nudity, with our future children?

•  As a couple, we agree that the American take on the human body and sexuality is very hypocritical and repressive, and possibly leads to psychological issues.  

• In the hopes of raising well adjusted children, we’ve decided to lean toward the German way of openness and acceptance of the natural human form.  

IV) Technology

As an adolescent, watching television was restricted during the school week, so I spent my time listening to music, doing homework assignments, talking to friends on the phone, and working on art projects.  As a millennial, despite owning the obligatory cache of adult toys (iPhone, iPad, MacBook, and Air pods), I’m loath to idolize personal tech.  When I reflect on my childhood, some of my fondest memories were at the Brooklyn Public Library, the antithesis of cutting edge technology.  And every summer until I was about 21 years old, I checked out 20 books on summer loan. Tino, on the other hand, loves technology, and likes to incorporate it in all facets of life.  Since his teens, he has enjoyed playing video games and organizes a LAN party, every time he visits Hamburg. 

Despite our differences, we share common beliefs about children’s engagement with technology.

• We intend to expose our children to technology, so they acquire the computer literacy needed to function in these times. 

• However, we are very keen on limiting screen time, especially when they are under the age of 10.  We would like our children to develop their innate creativity without distractions.  During my coming of age, I was grateful for the quiet moments spent reading books and sketching portraits, as opposed to constantly being engaged with social media.

• We are also adamant about keeping the cell phones/laptops of our future tweens and teenagers in our bedroom at night.  We believe that having constant access to the internet, especially during puberty, can adversely skew children's understanding of the world and themselves. 

As of today, I’m far from pregnant; yet I feel assured that when we are ready to embark on parenthood, Tino and I will have a general framework of what will work for us and our family.  We plan to incorporate lessons from our own upbringings, eschewing concepts that may be harmful to our future children, while maintaining enough wiggle room to adjust as needed.  Every step of the way we aim to honor the best parts of our cultures as these differences will hopefully make our children more dynamic and unique human beings.

*Read the edited version The Bump.

“Eat, Pray, Love”: Black Women Living Abroad

Last year, at the height of the Georgle Floyd (BLM) protests, there was a USA Today headline that read: ‘I'm leaving, and I'm just not coming back: Fed up with racism, Black Americans head overseas.”  Many Black Americans continue to fantasize about giving their two weeks’ notice, and moving abroad to seek out their version of ‘Eat, Pray, Love.”  Nevertheless, one has to ponder, is the grass always greener? Are Black female expats exchanging U.S. style racism for other ‘-isms’? Or is there a brighter future at the end of the rainbow? Below are the insights and experiences of six Black women who live outside of the United States.  They discuss what makes their city ideal, or not so ideal, for the Black female with wanderlust.

What do you consider a "good quality of life"?

• A good quality of life is financial stability, family and friends, good health, and enough free time to enjoy trivial pursuits. DD/London, United Kingdom

• Good quality of life is feeling free to do everything I want, any time I want. Access to good/healthy food, the ability to cater to myself with massages, going to the gym, surrounding myself with only positive minded people. And never forgetting to be thankful for all of it. Not taking it for granted! Mary/Hamburg, Germany

• I would say health first of all. Your drinking water needs to be clean; access to good nutrition (clean vegetables) and health facilities; and being in an environment that is not harmful to the body (high pollution, living next to a factory). Living in an emerging market, it can get very real! You can literally take these things for granted but you have to do your due diligence around what your chosen environment will offer, both good and bad.. Also access to healthy relationships, personally and professionally, are key. Then finally, your work; access to work that edifies or supports you in your personal growth. Lakeshia/ Accra, Ghana

• Social connections/people: THE MOST IMPORTANT. A place where there are many young professionals, organic opportunities to meet others (especially locals) and being able to find/create your “tribe”, a family away from family. 

  Affordability: a city that’s not so expensive that it makes financial stability feel nearly impossible. A city that won’t break your pockets over a cocktail (or 2) and an appetizer. Jasmin/Johannesburg, South Africa

• To me, a good quality of life means: being able to get around without a car, as I don't drive. Also having access to local organic food; retail shopping; and culture and entertainment (movie theaters, concert halls, museums). The ability to have a nice meal with a friend. As a parent, I need to be close to my kids' school, so that we can spend more time together and less time commuting. As much as I love the big city life, I do enjoy getting away from time to time.  I love spending a quiet weekend looking at the sky, going for a run, reading a book, and spending quality time with my loved ones, away from the daily congestion. Pam/Paris, France

• I consider a good quality of life feeling at peace where I live. A city where people are relaxed, friendly and welcoming, is very important to me.  And it's hard to separate quality of life from cost of living - I prioritize being in places where my dollar will go far. Roshida/Mexico City, Mexico 

What makes your city great for Black women to live in?

• There’s been an increase in recent years of safe spaces for Black women by Black women. However, honestly, I don’t know if my city is great for black women to live in. I often feel like we are treated as third class citizens, neither white nor male, and oftentimes we can’t count on racial solidarity as a source of comfort.  DD/London, United Kingdom

• Seeing the new generation of Black people being very confident about their heritage and showing it! There are many mixed couples, which has changed over the last few years, as love is a big topic for women. Also, there’s a new movement of young entrepreneurs with African backgrounds, despite being a small percentage of the city’s population. Mary/Hamburg, Germany

• For someone who is in their 20s, it’s a great place to enter and be in the majority. There are many safe places for expat Black women in Ghana. Furthermore, I believe that Black people need a time for ‘rest’ and not to constantly focus on their race. In America, we talk about race so much, due to the environment.  But being part of the majority, you can just exist and identify with other parts of yourself, as opposed to always leading with racial identity.  When you don’t have to think of yourself only as ‘Black’, you get to delve into the other parts of your identity,  like being a woman, millennial or an entrepreneur.  You start to strengthen those other parts of your identity, which I think is so dope and empowering. Lakeshia/Accra, Ghana 

• -Cultural diversity: the great thing about Johannesburg is that while nearly 80% of the population is Black, it’s a huge melting pot.  There are Africans from all over the continent, as well as expats from Europe, Asia, and America. There are so many different people to meet and learn from. 

  -Access & mobility: most things and places are easily accessible, as there is a good transportation system, and Uber is very reliable. Johannesburg feels like it’s the size of NYC without the brutal journey of going from Brooklyn to Harlem. 

  -Affordability: the cost of living in the city is quite low (depending on your means of course). From monthly rent to club/bar hopping to quick weekend getaways to buying a house/land, it’s all reasonable. And by reasonable I mean pretty cheap if you’re earning USD. Jasmin/Johannesburg, South Africa

• -Easy access to healthcare professionals who know about health conditions that usually affect Black people (dermatologists, cardiologists, mental health specialists)

  -The existence of Black womxn communities

  -The food! The wine! Fashion! The architecture!

  -A couple of great hair stylists (I can tend to my natural mane myself, but every now and then, my hair needs professional care). Pam/Paris, France

• Mexico City is a cultural hub with more museums than any other city in the world. There's always something to do, and the cost of living is lower than the U.S. The restaurant scene is amazing, as is the street food.  And best of all, the people here treat you with respect and care - but not in the "I've never seen a Black woman" before way that happens in other countries.  People don't stare or touch you.  Also I never receive the negative energy that can come to you in the U.S, simply from existing. Roshida/Mexico City, Mexico 

What makes your city not ideal for Black women to live in?

• Africans of different nationalities like to stay in their circle (country specific).  For example, you’ll always hear, ‘oh you from Ghana’ [I’m from Kenya], as Hamburg has the highest concentration of Ghanaians in Germany.  And it’s a constant task of reminding people that Africa is more than just one country! Then, there is the stereotyping that all Black people are the same, just because we have the same skin color.  Finally, in my personal experience, there's less support for Black female owned businesses. Mary/Hamburg, Germany

• I would say there are other -isms that you have to deal with outside of racism, like chauvinism, classism and sexism.  Though there can be an ‘othering’ that is reserved for foreigners, my experience has been a little different. My mother, father and extended family are from Jamaica, and I am a first generation American. When I arrived in Ghana and people asked me about myself, I’d say I’m Jamaican-American.  Once I shared my Caribbean heritage, there was a shift and more of an embrace into the culture. There are a lot of similarities between African and Caribbean cultures like ‘this is a food we make too’ or ‘you look like my family’.  So as a Caribbean-American, I can attest that I have had a slightly more fluid experience in Ghanaian society because of my Jamaican heritage.  Lakeisha/Accra, Ghana

• -Safety: Gender based violence makes Johannesburg less than ideal for Black women. As an expat, I have certain privileges that somewhat shield me (residential location, economic status, etc). So while I haven’t or don’t know anyone who has been a victim of gender based violence, I know it’s something women in SA are speaking out against often. Ironically, the “extra safety precautions” I try to take are just the regular things women have to do to keep themselves safe in any city in the world, if I’m being honest.  My mention of gender based violence should not be read as discouraging women from traveling to or living in SA. The reality is that any major city in the world requires a woman to take certain safety measures. Johannesburg would be no different. Jasmin/Johannesburg, South Africa

• Life in Paris can get pretty hectic and simultaneously lonely. One has to get out of one’s shell to create meaningful connections with other people. Parisians are known for their sense of style, and also for being grumpy, and both statements are true most of the time. ;) Pam/Paris, France

• Nothing!  If you're up for adventure, this is the city for you. Roshida/Mexico City, Mexico 

Have I Bought into 'Whiteness’?: A Candid Look at Interracial Relationships

Close your eyes and imagine a perfect morning. You wake up in a comfortable bed, as the subtle smell of breakfast foods waft in. You stretch your arms overhead and look over to your right. The sun dances on your significant other’s skin, who is still fast asleep. Who is it nestled beside you under the layers of white bedding? Are you running your hands through dark brown curly hair? Is his skin alabaster white, or is it olive, or mahogany? What does your fantasy mate look like?

During my pre-adolescence in New York City, my first crushes were a Trinidadian boy; followed by a Guyanese dougla; then a Korean boy; a red-headed Irish boy; and an older Jewish guy from Long Island. Maybe because of my Brooklyn upbringing, I have always found beauty in people of varying ethnic backgrounds and hues. Yet, even as a teenager, I dreamed of a tall, highly educated dark skinned Black man as my future husband. As a dark skinned Black girl, I was adamant about not buying into the colorist notions of marrying a non-Black man, to ensure that my children would not be dark skinned like me. When I was 21, I met a tall, dark skinned man from West Africa, who was wrong for me in every way. However, he checked all of the boxes that I had envisioned for my life partner. When that relationship soured, I became an equal opportunity dater, spending time with Latino, Eurasian, Native American, white and Black men. Now, years later, I am part of an interracial couple, and wake up next to a tall, educated German white man with olive skin and blue eyes.

Due to geographic proximity and societal expectations, most people marry someone from a similar background, be it the same religion, race, or cultural group. Yet, occasionally some individuals go against the “norms”, and form interracial relationships, like the newly elected Vice President, who is married to a white man. In politics, as in the entertainment industry, there have been numerous examples of interracial partnerships. In the U.S., where racism against interracial couples was codified in miscegenation laws, the rate of interracial marriage has increased fivefold from 3% of all weddings in 1967 to 17% in 2015.

On blogs and in comment sections on social media, many members of the public often express how they feel about these mixed race marriages. These comments can range from condemnation and overt racism against interracial couples, to praise about their partnerships. Now in the wake of the post-Trump era and its increase in blatant racist tropes, I began to wonder if I had bought into whiteness by marrying a European man. I wanted to know how Black women like myself, in interracial marriages were faring during these times? Although I read the comments on Instagram and YouTube channels, I was curious to know how the public really felt about interracial relationships between Black women and white men.

Social Media and Interracial Relationships: Fetishism for Capitalistic Pursuits

Some time ago, while strolling on Miami Beach, my husband and I encountered an associate who exclaimed that we looked like a YouTube couple. Intrigued by this comparison, Tino and I went online to figure out exactly what she was referring to. We quickly came across numerous videos of Black-woman-white-man partnerships. Some of the videos were obvious racial click bait with titles such as, “Why Are You Dating A Black Woman?”, “Waxing Armpit Hair At Home With My Black Girlfriend”, and “Boyfriend Sees My Afro For The 1st Time.” Regardless of the topic, these YouTube channels had millions of followers and paid sponsors.

In the comment sections, the channels’ fans gushed over the most mundane aspects of the young couples’ lives. After viewing several of these posts, often pausing to comment on what we watched, we agreed that these snapshots of interracial couple life, weren’t reflective of our own interracial relationship. For us, it seemed that lurking under the surface of ‘how to make dinner for a family of 4”, was the unspoken objective of fetishizing interracial unions for the purpose of profit. As one Black female vlogger stated, “YouTubers in general know the trends that will make you blow up. One trend is just having a boyfriend or a couple’s channel. If that boyfriend is white and is good looking? That’s it.”

After much reflection, Tino and I concluded that although these were videos of real life couples, these people were not representative of interracial couples around the globe. To us, they were spectacles, engaging in a highly racialized performance. There were many instances where the female’s race was the central issue of the post. As one Twitter user wrote, “It doesn’t seem like a coincidence that some element of ‘Blackness’ is presented as an obstacle that needs to be overcome in the titles of all these videos.” Yes, as in all relationships, cultural differences must be addressed; but, as my husband queried, why aren’t there videos about a Black woman learning about the stages of sunburn and the subsequent peeling of her spouse’s skin?

Furthermore, these ‘swirl’ YouTube channels (interracial relationship advice platforms) seem to reinforce the perception of how the wider society views Black women. In the white patriarchal society that is the U.S., Black women are still at the bottom of the proverbial totem pole of desirability and marriageability, with dark skinned Black women being even more marginalized. In many instances, the Black women featured on these YouTube couple channels are dark skinned. As user melanin_monore-93 wrote on The Shade Room, “but when a darkskin wom[a]n marrie[s] outside of her race, here comes most of the bitter black men that wouldn’t even acknowledge them.” These channels tap into the sensitive topic of, why aren’t some Black women getting married?

Since YouTube functions as a form of entertainment, these channels also tap into the subversive narrative of, “what if the fairy tale princess isn’t white”? If we, Black women are truthful, then we must admit that for many Black and brown girls, their first love objects were white men. From Jesus to Prince Eric in the Little Mermaid, the idea of a “Prince Charming” type disrupting the story, and foregoing a blonde princess for a kinky curly haired side character, bucks at normality. Maybe this is one of the explanations for the almost childlike giddiness over a Black woman-white male pairing, as social media platform users hashtag interracial couple goals. It must be noted that the viewers of these channels are, “88% female, predominantly black, with a near 50/50 split between the US and the UK.” In turn, one could conclude that these channels peddle in fantasy; presenting their wares to one of the most vulnerable demographics: unmarried Black women.

Different Types of Interracial Couples: Black woman vs Black man

In early January, Matt James, the first Black-presenting (he is in fact biracial) male contestant of the Bachelor stated, ‘People want you to end up with a certain type of person.” He was alluding to the pressure he feels to hand the final rose to a Black woman. Black Twitter quickly jumped on this statement as a warning for the audience ‘to not get too excited about a Black love story showing up on their television screen.’ As a Black woman who has interacted with many Black men who don’t like Black women, this statement by James did not come as a surprise. I recalled back in 2015 at a pool party where a Black man who was not in my friend group kept repeatedly stating, “I just like Kardashian types.” No one in my circle was interested in him, but he felt driven to let us know that he preferred women who weren’t Black from different ethnic backgrounds. After I had had a few drinks, which lowered my threshold of giving a care, I quipped, ‘Well, I guess I like ‘foreigns’ too’. ‘Foreigns’ was a common term used by rappers at the time, describing how they liked their women and their cars.

A quick scroll through The Shade Room and one will readily find a heated debate about interracial couples. A Black man will call Black women bitter for not supporting an interracial relationship between a Black man and a non-Black woman; to which a Black woman might respond, “that’s why I’m getting me a Ken!” The same hackneyed conversation plays out over and over again like a script. However, what this battle seems to reveal is a deeper hurt that Black men do not find Black women desirable.

If Black women, especially dark skinned Black women, are deemed low on the desirability totem pole, there must be an insidious explanation for a Black woman and Caucasian man pairing. The Black woman in an interracial partnership is either 1)seeking refuge after being ignored or castigated by Black men or 2)looking for financial support that only a wealthy white man can provide. There is always a reason, and that reason is rarely believed to be love or mutual desire. The varying experiences of Black men vs Black women in the marriage market, further lays the foundation for many stereotypes about BW-WM interracial relationship issues. Racist ideologies about masculinity have hyper-sexualized the Black man, making him a desirable object for women of varying races and ethnic groups. A study from the Pew Research Center notes, “Black men are twice as likely as Black women to have a spouse of a different race or ethnicity (24% vs. 12%).”

Interracial Marital Problems: Power, Wealth and Whiteness

After the Capitol insurrection on January 6, Black Twitter quickly revealed that some of the insurrectionists were in interracial relationships, married to Black women and had biracial children. One Proud Boy member posted photos of his mixed race family to dispel notions of him being a racist, which other white men readily retweeted to bolster their cause. For hours, I scrolled through Twitter threads trying to understand how a Black woman could marry and have children with a white supremacist. And as I watched the terrorists parade on the TV screen waving Trump flags, I began to side eye my husband. Despite his liberal point of view and express abhorrence for anything anti-Black, my mind couldn’t help but wonder: Could my soul mate, the love of my life, be a secret white supremacist?

The writer, Rebecca Stevens A. speaks to this issue in her piece White Men and the Sexual Fetishization of Black Women where she contends that, “…Later, I came to realize that some of the men that insisted so much on loving Black women were in fact some of the most vile white supremacists and racists I would ever encounter in my life. Their hatred of Black people was so deeply rooted, so intense, that they went to great lengths to be with a Black woman in order to gain the sick and sadistic privilege of maltreating and oppressing her. Many of my Black friends that married these types of men were often subject to domestic violence including regular verbal abuse containing derogatory racist insults.” The racialized component of these women’s abuse is even more disturbing when viewed from the lens of past hegemonic ‘interracial couples with racism’ (i.e. Sally Hemmings and President Thomas Jefferson).

For centuries, women of color throughout the world have been sexually victimized by white men. Stevens A. addresses this very point when she says, , “[Black women have been] dehumanized to legitimize and justify abhorrent sexual and non-sexual violence that has been perpetrated against our bodies for centuries.” Despite being the victims of white men’s sexual aggression, time and again these ‘dark women’ have also been labeled temptresses; who with their wily ways seduced white men. Unfortunately, this fetishization of non-white women has persisted into the modern era. In turn, for many women of color, who date outside of their race, there is a valid concern about being viewed as a sexual object, opposed to a partner. How does a Black woman in an interracial relationship tease out if a man is motivated by love for her or has preconceived notions of her sexual prowess, based solely on skin color? There is also another layer to the interracial relationship that must be explored: that of the white man’s need to legitimize his skills as a great lover, just by being in a relationship with a Black woman.

After overcoming concerns about a white partner’s ulterior motives, how do interracial couples balance their sexuality, within in the context of slavery and colonialism? In the controversial Broadway play, Slave Play, “…three interracial couples are tasked with role-playing white-black, master-slave relationships as a way to make sense of how their racial identities factor into their sex and personal lives.” In the Vox review of the play, the writer posed questions about the power dynamics and sexual roles that play out in both private and public spaces, as central interracial marriage problems. Couples and readers alike are left to grapple with: “[how] does the history of slavery continue to impact sex and power between these groups? [And] who holds whom accountable, if so?”

In contemporary life, the complexities of race and financial disparities, further complicate interracial relationships between Black women and white men. Due to past injustices, people with fairer skin hold more wealth and subsequently more power in most societies. For some Black women from financially disadvantaged backgrounds, dating or marrying a European man may be a means of economic advancement. The ‘gold digger trope’ is readily applied when a seemingly attractive young Black woman becomes involved with an unattractive, but wealthy older white man. This is often the lens through which such relationships are viewed in Africa and the Caribbean, where European expatriates wield power and possess wealth, within the neocolonial class structure. However, even in Western nations, the financial disparity between white men and Black women is sizable enough to encourage some relationships that are based on financial expediency.

As an Interracial Couple: what does this all mean for my marriage?

Over the past year, I’ve written a variety of articles addressing many of the mental health stressors for Black women in the African Diaspora. However, the article to date that has garnered the most responses has been the one focusing on my interracial marriage. In that article, I did not provide any coping strategies, nor was there any research, or anything that could help an individual’s mental wellbeing; nonetheless it has been the most widely read article to date. Believing there was a glitch in my Google Analytics report, I took the scholarly approach and researched which topics were trending with Black women on Google. ‘Interracial marriage’ and ‘interracial couples’ problems’, in all of its permutations, is a hot topic. Afterwards, I thought, “Well hell, lemme give the people what they want!”’ and contemplated pivoting my platform to focus on my interracial marriage, as a means to gain more traffic. However, after a sobering conversation with my husband, I decided against this approach.

I’m a Black woman and Tino is a white man. As a couple, we navigate the world being fully aware of the biases of others, as well as our own. I understand that despite Tino’s “wokeness” and the awareness of my own identity, we may still ascribe to some societal scripts about race and gender. I do not believe that white people are superior to Black people, and that having a white husband elevates me, as an individual. However, I do understand that some strangers may perceive that racism, interracial couples are not important issues. But one of the innate challenges of interracial couples: racism, cannot be ignored. One important aspect of our relationship is grappling with our cultural differences against the the backdrop of a very racist world. We talk about our love and sexuality in the context of slavery, colonialism, wealth disparities, and white privilege. We acknowledge that we can’t possibly get everything right and there will be cringe worthy moments over the years. However, the world’s attitudes on mixed marriages may continue to change with the times. Either way, Tino and I choose to focus on our partnership, our friendship, and each other. And every morning, when we peer over the comforter, finding the other person there, it feels like the best decision every time.

‘Reclaiming My Time’: Leisure, Black Women and White Supremacy

With the holidays rapidly approaching, people are looking forward to having some time off from work. Typically, the last few weeks of the year are a time to rest, to reset and to reconnect with friends and loved ones.  This year, however, for myriad reasons some people may feel uncomfortable requesting time off from work.  Maybe they have been working from home, and their manager likens this to already being “off”.  Others may fear that taking vacation will highlight that they are replaceable in their role or may be perceived as a lack of enthusiasm for their job.

It is deeply entrenched in the American culture for employees to work hard, even to the detriment of their own mental and physical health. It is deemed admirable for them to miss sleep or meals in order to complete a project.  To this end, Americans take less vacation, work longer days and retire later in life.  It is the only industrialized country in the world that has no legally mandated annual leave.

Within this workplace culture, stereotypes of Black people’s laziness, their poor work ethic and lack of team spirit have often been perpetuated.  Although these assertions have been proven to the contrary, non-Black managers and supervisors often foster these beliefs, resulting in overworked Black employees who forego vacation, as they feel the need to outperform their peers. 

The main tenet of a capitalist society is that maximum productivity equals maximum profit.  In such a system, there are workers and there are managers.  When race, class and workforce intersect, there is a societal understanding that people of color should constantly be at work, overwhelmed and inundated with tasks.  Even when Black individuals obtain higher education, having the right to navigate their time is still elusive.  The idea remains that Black professionals must work 7 days per week/24 hours per day, to make up for being successful.  For professional Black people, the paradigm shifts from the policing of their physical body and space in the work environment, to the policing of their time.  

Dr. Rasul Mowatt, professor of American Studies at Indiana University, Bloomington states that “Leisure is primarily a tool of capitalism.  Leisure is also a tool of white supremacy.  It articulates power in society, in a certain way; who has it and who does not, and who has the right to wield it.”  A recent episode of the current affairs platform Vox, highlighted the pivotal role that the desegregation of American beaches and pools played in the Civil Rights movement.  During these protests, also known as ‘wade ins’, activists swam in White-only pools and beaches, and were confronted by police brutality.  In one instance, the owner of a hotel in St. Augustine, Florida threw hydrochloric acid on activists who were staging a protest.  These acts of civil disobedience highlighted the unequal access to recreation and leisure.  In many cities, the designated Black beaches and pools were inaccessible to the community, and oftentimes polluted.  

Unfortunately, decades later, people of color around the globe are still fighting for the right to relax. One Sunday morning, my husband and I decided that we needed a reset.  We drove to a day spa in one of the fancier neighborhoods in Hamburg.  We exercised, had massages and ventured down to the sauna and steam rooms.  Hours later, I emerged from the facility feeling refreshed and invigorated.  Yet, in a city with one of the largest Arab and African populations of varying socioeconomic classes, I was the only non-White person in the spa.  There were stares, and glares, from the other guests.  Lo! The audacity to be young, Black, and enjoying my leisure time, as I deemed fit!

It is important, now more than ever, for Black professionals to take time from work to reap the physical and psychological benefits of rest and leisure.  Black women won’t only be confined to other people’s kitchens or nurseries. We will be right there in barre class, holding a plank.  We will be in a cabana on a foreign beach.  We will be off at 11am on a Tuesday, trying on a pair of shoes.  And we will be living well and having leisure, which is in itself a revolutionary act.

Staking a Claim: The Best Cities for Black Women to Reside

Brooklyn. Atlanta. Miami. Philly. Hamburg. 

In the past 17 years, I’ve lived in five different cities; with each city seeming to coincide with my particular stage of life.  All of these places have had both positive and negative attributes; but Miami, with all its flaws and complications, is the place where I have chosen to live.

When national publications like US Today feature perennial articles entitled, “Best Cities to Live” and “Where you need to live”, I always wonder if the metrics that are used to construct these lists, can be generalized to include the lives of Black women. 

In the early part of 2020, Bloomberg’s City Lab in collaboration with a noted sociologist, developed a livability index that analyzed the best American cities for Black women. The index assessed  and ranked outcomes/inequities for Black women based on income status, health conditions, and educational accomplishments. 

Despite the thoroughness of the report, it did not address the personal issues that face Black women.  It did not shed light on the intimate experiences of Black women in various cities across the country.   Did the researchers ask if there were natural hair salons in the metropolitan area?  Did they query if there were eligible bachelors? Did they find out if Black women were able to establish a social network in that city?  

Being curious about the stories, that the study could not capture, I posed three specific questions to Black women in their early 30’s, about their respective cities: 

1) What do you consider a "good quality of life"?

•  I have a top three:

  -Proximity to different cultures and environments.  On the east coast, the cultural makeup of most cities are ethnically diverse and you can easily experience many cultures within the city limits.  Also geographically, other cities are nearby (i.e. Boston, NYC, Washington DC, Philadelphia)  making travel between them easy, which further amplifies access to different cultures. On the west coast, although the cities are further apart, diverse cultural offerings are still prioritized, and access to the untamed outdoors is a short hour drive from every major city.  In the Midwest, however, the distance between cities means people are more relegated to their location and this creates a lot of sameness.

  -Having access to other like-minded people, who prioritize similar values

  -Walkability, food, etc

  -Sheeba, Chicago

• Good quality of life to me means that everything feels balanced -- no one part of your life feels overwhelming. For example, work is important and you can take it seriously, but also it's not all consuming. You can advance in your career, but still make time for other aspects of life: like exercising, visiting friends, developing other skills and exploring new hobbies. 

  -Fatima, Los Angeles

• There are a few things that are indicative of a good quality of life: 

  -First, being able to purchase the things I want without considering their cost, whether it's a pair of shoes or a meal.  The ability to pay for things with the confidence that you won't overdraw or have to make huge sacrifices in order to make it to your next paycheck.

  -Second,  making enough money so that I'm able to save a portion of every paycheck is a marker of a good quality of life. 

  -Third, is being able to do the things that make me happy, like attending concerts and participating in the activities that I enjoy.

  -Victoria, New York City 

•  I think that a balance of mental/spiritual/physical/emotional wellness is a good quality of life. First and foremost, there must be a balance in your relationships that are healthy, and that help you to grow as an individual and that are supportive.  Then, there should be a balance in your career or whatever you devote your time to: something that fulfills you and something that you thrive in doing. I think life is full of challenges and adversity, but as long as you have balance, then you have a good quality of life.

  -Stacie, Washington DC

• It is having some financial independence; a great social support system (partner/family/friends) and optimal work/life balance.

   -Tameka, Miami

• I made a conscious choice to go to the city where my partner resided, to build a life together.  In turn, what I consider a good quality of life and what is important to me has changed. One of the unintended things that has come from moving to the South, has been actually learning what quality of life means as an adult. While yes, I grew up in the suburbs; as a child, I didn't have to think about adult things. So now being able to walk outside in a safe neighborhood; being able to see trees and greenery has been super impactful for me.  NYC was so gray and drab. In retrospect, what was I trading off, not to have trees?  It is not something that I will do again, moving forward.

  -Ashley, Atlanta

2) What makes your city great for Black women to live in?

• LA is still new to me, but so far it’s great for Black women. There are a lot more people that look like me (compared to the Bay Area).  There are several more resources at my disposal,  geared towards Black women.  Also, I am a huge fan of nature therapy, so being outside and enjoying the weather is great for my mental health. 

  -Fatima, Los Angeles

• You can be whoever you want to be in NYC. However you choose to express yourself, it’s more than likely that you can find a community with similar values, beliefs, and forms of expression. Additionally, I've always felt very safe in NYC. Contrary to its reputation, I've never felt threatened or in danger while walking alone, at night, or in an unfamiliar neighborhood.

  -Victoria, New York City 

• I think DC can be a great place for Black women to live. Black women have varied needs, passions and identities, but I think that most of those things can be served by living here. I have found that at any time in my adult life, what I needed to be whole and to thrive, I could find here. When I woke up today, whatever I needed to be well, I have access to in DC.

  -Stacie, Washington DC

• Blacks from all over the Diaspora live here, great weather, and an international hub to fly out of.

  -Tameka, Miami

• The things that make Atlanta great for me are very individualistic and I can't generalize them to other Black women.  Generally, there's a very clear work life balance, in comparison to northeastern cities.  Also, it's very empowering to see Black people thriving and doing well; not just in terms of money, but in terms of quality of life and representation. The mayor is a Black accomplished, stylish and beautiful woman. Then there’s everything that Stacey Abrams has done politically.  It truly resonates with me. We talk a lot about Black children needing to see themselves reflected in leadership. In the same way that seeing Keisha and Stacey is profound for children, it is also profound for 20-something and 30-something year old Black women. 

  -Ashley, Atlanta

• Oakland is great for Black women because you feel this instant force of community here. There’s a mashup of Oakland natives and Black women that work in tech; and you see these different communities colliding in beautiful ways. There are many businesses and services owned by Black women, and everyone supports and lifts up each other.  This provides positive energy that’s great for me, as a Black woman. 

  -Tashana, Oakland 

3) What makes your city not ideal for Black women to live in?

• I opened that email and thought ‘there are good cities for Black women?’ 

  -Shani, New Orleans

• The cost of living, goddamn! Everything is so much more expensive here, than anywhere else in the US.

  -Victoria, New York City 

• I mean it's LA...the superficial standard of beauty that plays heavily toward the "western" standard of beauty.

  - Fatima, Los Angeles

• In my experience as a Black woman who desires to have a romantic partnership, and build a family, I have found it very challenging to date in DC.  I don't know if that is endemic to DC or if it's all metropolitan areas. When I think about my friends who are in relationships or have gotten married, they were either living in smaller or more suburban areas, when they met their partner or their partner is someone that they've known from a past life. I can't think of anyone in a metro city who I know that met a stranger and it  blossomed and they found happily-ever-after. I think dating in DC is challenging and that makes the city less of an ideal for a Black woman who wants to be in a relationship. 

  -Stacie, Washington DC

• The segregation in Chicago makes it a challenging city.  It reinforces the idea that Black people have to always be two selves. This is traumatic and damaging and many who live here are so accustomed to this status quo [that] they don't view it as a problem.  The segregation also reinforces non-Black people’s prejudices of people who don't live in the same area as them.  It also makes it very easy for gentrifiers (obviously an issue in all cities) to feel good about disrupting the flow of old neighborhoods.  As the historically
  Black neighborhoods don't reflect the gentrifiers’ ideas of 'nice', they feel that they're being helpful and contributing to the area’s growth. It’s just all around a bad cycle. 

  -Sheeba, Chicago

• I will continue to tell Black women in secure relationships with children or seeking to have children, to move to Atlanta.  Otherwise, it is very difficult to be single in this city.

  -Ashley, Atlanta

• Dating! In Miami, exotic or Latin or basically any other woman who isn’t Black, is seen as more desirable. Also the year round humidity may be harder on those with natural hair who want a blowout or a silk press.

  -Tameka, Miami

• Oakland is not ideal for black women who are looking to settle down. Dating is tough overall for Black women, but it seems even more so in Oakland.  Many Black men come here to focus on work and start making great money for the first time in their lives. In turn, the men build up an ego and are not trying to date seriously. They’re playing the field and focusing on themselves, with no interest in monogamous relationships.

  -Tashana, Oakland

After reviewing these responses, it is clear that there is no one-size-fits-all place to reside for Black women.  Like everything else in life, each city has its advantages and disadvantages. To live a well rounded existence, Black women should take into account the city’s social and political climate; the weather and natural environment; and access to a social network that reflects their values.  

For better or worse, I have chosen to live in an American city.  Throughout the United States, Black women must daily navigate racism and the challenges that go with finding a romantic partner.  Yet, the important question must be asked, why are Black women putting limits on themselves by remaining in the continental U.S.? 

To be continued...

Blackness Without Boundaries: A Pan-Africanist Perspective

Kamala Devi Harris: the first female vice president, is a woman of Jamaican and Indian heritage. She was born more than a half century ago to immigrant parents, in Oakland, California.  Madame Vice President Harris, chose to attend an HBCU and to pledge a black sorority.  She is as multifaceted in her abilities as she is in her cultural heritage.  Yet, there are those who seem to be unable to rejoice in her accomplishment, and question if, “is she even Black”?

“Same boat. Different stops” is a common saying repeated throughout the African Diaspora.   Yet, despite knowing that the African continent is the origin of human civilization, there continues to be a cultural divide among people of African heritage regarding who is authentically Black and who is Black with a qualifier.  For Black people who were born outside of the United States they’ve had to contend not only with decades of white racism but also stereotypes held by American born Blacks.  Conversely, Black people born in the United States have for centuries faced the brunt of American racism, as well as disdain from some foreign born Blacks.  

Nigerian born actress, Yvonne Orji from the hit HBO series, Insecure, stated in her 2020 stand-up performance, that for some Black millennials, the childhood taunts and jeers aren’t distant memories.  

• “African Americans are lazy, that’s why they can’t pull themselves up by their bootstraps.”

• “African immigrants are aggressive and spread diseases from their countries.”

• “(Insert Caribbean country of choice) booty scratcher.”

• “What’s an Afro Latina? All Spanish people look like Shakira and Maluma.”

Over the years, the cultural wars that have pit mainland Africans and Caribbean people against Black Americans have subsided, somewhat.  However, strongly held ideas and deep seated divisions still exist among these groups.  Over the past few years, blatant acts of white supremacy have caused people of color to simultaneously congeal around a pan-ethnic Black identity, while still segmenting themselves into their respective ethnic groups.  

One example of this took place in 2017, when actor Samuel L. Jackson made comments that sparked a debate about whether Black British actors should portray African American icons on screen.  He said, “There are a lot of black British actors in these movies...Daniel [Kaaluya] grew up in a country where they’ve been interracial dating for a hundred years...What would a brother from America have made of that role? Some things are universal, but (not everything).”   British actor, John Boyega, from Star Wars, aptly responded, “Black Brits vs African American. A stupid ass conflict we don't have time for.”  In his statements, Jackson was inferring that Blacks born in the U.K.  had had no experiences of racial prejudice, as though racism had somehow skipped the British Isles.

More recently, students at Harvard University, who refer to themselves as Generational African Americans, established a students’ association to address their perceived cultural erasure in Black spaces on campus.  In a recent issue of the Harvard Crimson, the founders of the association contend that GAA students occupy the “lowest rung” in the Black community.  In the article, the author highlights that “...advocating for GAA students carries fraught undercurrents: the reality that promoting specificity can tread closely to the needless trap of pitting marginalized groups against each other.”

During my time at Spelman College, I interacted with young Black people from all over the world.  My freshman year roommate was from Kansas City, Missouri.  She introduced me to real BBQ, via care packages sent by her parents. We stood in our dorm room eating ribs from Gates, dripping in sauce.  I, in turn, introduced her to the classic songs of Beres Hammond and Buju Banton.  There we were: two Black girls educating each about our respective cultures, while becoming more well rounded individuals in doing so.

It goes without saying that everyone is entitled to celebrate the nuances that make him or her unique. Unfortunately, for Black people, these differences have often been used to create unnecessary divisions within our communities.  It is possible to be Black and German; Black Dutch; and Black British.  It must be recognized that the world is bigger than the borders of the United States; and Blackness in all of its magnificent forms cannot be narrowly defined.   There are over 1 billion Black people on the African continent; tens of millions in Latin America; a few million in Melanesia; and several thousand displaced peoples on the Indian subcontinent and in South East Asia.  When Black people embrace their Blackness, and think beyond the limitations of borders, anything is possible.

• Shirley Chisholm.  The first Black woman elected to the United States Congress and the first African American to run for president. She was born in Brooklyn, to a Barbadian mother and Guyanese father.

• Pop Smoke. First generation Jamaican, born in Brooklyn.  He worked with Drill producers from the UK to create a distinctly rugged sound.  

• Issa Rae. The progeny of a Senegalese father and an African American mother from Louisiana.  She acts, writes and produces stories that are centered in the Black millennial experience.

• Malcolm X.  The ageless symbol of Black manhood and militancy, was the son of a Grenadian mother. 

• Stokely Carmichael (Kwame Toure). A prominent organizer in the Civil Rights movement in the United States and the global Pan-African movement.  A contemporary of the late John Lewis, Toure was born in Trinidad and matured in NYC.  He married the South African singer, Miriam Makeba, and spent his final years in Guinea. 

So once again, Kamala Devi Harris. Jamaican. Indian. American. And Black.

Monogamy and The Partnership Paradox

The affair.  The possibility of another. The third.

In Western culture, people are socialized to bind themselves to one individual for the rest of their lives. It is the Judeo-Christian thing to do, which means it is also the moral thing to do.  Nonetheless, many television shows, songs, and films have often made the affair, the primary focus or at least as a subplot of the wider narrative.  From Ciara+Future, Beyonce’s seminal album Lemonade, Pleasure P’s hit song ‘Boyfriend #2’, VH1 reality shows, office gossip, “Gone Girl” to the murders committed by the now infamous Chris Watts, “the other” exists.  Globally, it appears that many individuals seem to struggle with staying faithful in a monogamous relationship or find difficulty in upholding their marital vows.  It goes without saying that the emotional trauma and pain that come from infidelity can often be life altering.  Which leads to the question: is being in a monogamous relationship good for people’s mental health?

For most of my adolescence, I spent my summer vacation in Senegal.  During the dreary New York City winters, I would reminisce about my time there. The sunny days at the beach;  eating street fare of BBQ meat and fried fish; and talking to my cousins under the stars, in our village compound.  One memory that remains fresh in my mind is the time I attended my teenage cousin’s wedding.  Like me, she was 16 years old.  I was a junior in high school, destined to attend Spelman College in two years; while her fate was to be our neighbor’s second wife. 

The wedding was held on a beautiful day, with several changes of outfits for the bride, who beamed happily throughout the daylong ceremony.  I laughed and feasted; but through it all, I couldn’t help but contemplate the prospect of being a teenage bride, furthermore sharing a spouse.  Some nights, I would go with my cousins to visit the newlywed, whose new home, like a high rise, housed each co-wife and her children on a different floor.  She settled into her new home without a hiccup, forming a congenial relationship with her co-wife.

Then there is the woman, for whom I am named.  She is financially independent; a fearsome business woman with her own company; and a beautiful home.  Yet, her husband has a second wife.  She doesn't need her husband to support her.  However, in the Wolof culture, to be unmarried is to be an “unwoman”.

Growing up in the West, when I heard anyone judge the tenets of polygamy, I didn’t scoff at this part of my background/cultural heritage.  Instead, I would mull over the inherently patriarchal aspects of polygamy.  Hearing men openly state that they were in the market for a new wife always seemed one sided to me.  I always wondered about the other wives? Didn’t they have a say in who joined their ranks? Were these women really willing to share their husband’s affection, wealth and time with another woman?  Or were the societal pressures so great that they had to conform?

Once, as a cheeky teenager, I jokingly said to my father who has four wives, just as his father before him, “Dad, if you can have four wives; I’ll have three husbands.”  The outrage showed instantly in his eyes, as he hushed me to silence, making sure I did not embarrass him in public.  Imagining the existence of female gender equality in having multiple partners was unthinkable to him.  Whenever I openly questioned the practice of polygamy to my father, his favorite counterpoint would be, “What about all the unmarried Black women in the United States?”  According to statistics from the 2010 U.S. Census: 71% of Black women in America were unmarried. Of that group, 71% of Black women between the ages of 25-29 and 54% between the ages of 30-34, had never been married. In comparison, 43% of non-Hispanic white women between the ages of 25-29 had never married. 

One may wonder, what is the ideal situation for a Black woman who desires to be in a heterosexual partnership?  Is it better to be in a monogamous relationship with the possibility of an unseen interloper, acting as a source of angst?  Or is it better to be married to a man, knowing that the possibility exists for him to take a younger wife as you age?  Is it a more honorable situation for a man to have two wives, rather than a wife and a mistress (or two)?  Is polygamy in the 21st century just another opportunity for men to be in pseudo-open relationships, sanctioned by religious and cultural beliefs? 

Now, as a married woman and a mental health provider, I find both social constructs inherently flawed, since they often seem to leave women at a disadvantage. How can Black women restructure their romantic relationships so that they thrive emotionally , and are not disempowered by overarching cultural beliefs?  Please tell me your thoughts!

Carefree and Black: How HBCUs bolster mental health

In the spring of 2004, as I walked across the vast expanse of Duke University’s great lawn, I observed the undergraduates huddled together.  Some were studying, while others lay on the grass tanning.  As we moved across the campus, Lauren, my guide for the Black student weekend, pointed out important buildings and monuments.  When it was time to attend an afternoon class, she left me in her dorm room, which was spacious and beautiful. 

A few hours later, Lauren returned with a group of girls, all eager to tell me about the various facets of student life.  As things typically go with young women, the conversation eventually shifted to dating.  Most of the girls had been single their entire undergraduate tenure, unable to reference any romantic dalliances.  The words of one junior have stayed with me over the years, she said: “...most of the Black guys are athletes who only date white girls; the Black guys who do like Black girls, date everyone at the same time.”   

By the time I returned to Brooklyn, I knew that this prestigious university wasn’t the place for me. I didn’t care about going to school with the children of Fortune 500 CEOs.  I was indifferent to the illustrious alum, whose names were on the facades of buildings.  I didn’t need the world class library and access to amenities, only a NCAA Division 1 school could provide. I believed that despite the diversity and inclusion initiatives, I would still be an ‘other’ among my white peers.  I was smart and more importantly, I was a disciplined student, who could learn anywhere.  

Shortly after my visit to Duke, I went to Emory University, for another prospective Black student weekend.  It was a great experience, but once again, I knew it wasn’t a match.  A few weeks later, I visited Spelman College, only a few miles away from Emory;  but within hours I knew I was home.  I was paired with Eni, an impressive freshman from the Honors’ Program, who earlier that day, had chaired a summit on international women’s issues.  

Fast forward to the evening, and we were sneaking off campus to attend an Omega Psi Phi fraternity party.  Here I was, in the company of exceptional young women, who were pursuing their academic studies, yet were leading equally exciting personal lives.  There was an ease to their manner.  They just were.  They were being nurtured by their environment, unlike what I perceived at the PWIs Black student weekends, where the students worked to fit into an imposing structure.

Now years later, as a mental health professional, I believe that attending a historically black college was one of the best mental health decisions I've ever made.  Over the years, I’ve had many opportunities to compare my experiences to those of friends, who attended predominantly white institutions.  Their time in college was equally rewarding; yet, I believe there is a sort of an ‘awakening and mental healing’, that can only be found in the microcosms of HBCUs. 

1) Learning that Blackness is not monolithic: 

Coming from NYC, I thought that I had met every version of a Black person there could be: Caribbean, African, Latinx, and African American.  However, attending a HBCU in the South, quickly unraveled what I had regarded as gospel.  My peers were from the Midwest; Gulf Coast; DC Metro; Cali and overseas. There was the girl from Philly with a thick accent who was a math genius. There were the ‘hood guys’ from Morehouse, tying their durags too tightly and cursing way too much, who later revealed they had attended private day schools in New England.  There were the queer girls, who were redefining gender politics off campus.  In this space, there was less code switching and self monitoring, since there was no need to worry about the white gaze.  We weren’t tiny islands in a vast ocean of whiteness, bound together by our blackness; we were individuals with varying talents and abilities. 

2) Professors, who want students to succeed:  

When I was 14, I was awarded a scholarship to study the basics of pharmacology in Dublin, Ireland for a summer.  My scheduled departure date would cause me to miss a week of school.  Despite my pleas, my high school guidance counselor concocted some absurd reason why she could not give permission for me to go.  Luckily, my mother worked out a solution to the guidance counselor’s liking and a few weeks later I was on my way to Dublin.  My high school years were riddled with incidents of being thwarted, doubted and not given the same chances as my Caucasian and Asian peers.  

In college, everything changed. For the first time in years, I had teachers who wanted me to succeed and were invested in my success.  Some were seemingly difficult and impossible in their demands.  In retrospect, I realize that the rigorous coursework was to prepare students for an unfair world.  Between tests and essays, there was always time set aside for nurturing our minds and building confidence in our scholastic abilities.  Likewise, as our professors pushed us, so did our peers.  We were constantly surrounded by excellence, which further encouraged us to strive for more.

3) The perfect ‘growth medium’, to grow into well rounded individuals

Many make the case that attending an HBCU is not the real world. It isn’t.  As Black people,  for the rest of our lives, we will live in a generally hostile white supremacist society.  I’m grateful for those four years of reprieve, from the harrowing reality of what it means to exist as a Black woman in the American society.  I believe that Black youths, especially Black women, should be given the opportunity to mature in an environment that wants what’s best for them.  At that sensitive phase of life, one should feel invincible, beautiful, adored, and just simply, important. When I visited Duke,  Lauren and her cohorts described themselves, in so many words, as being at the bottom of the dating totem pole.  For me, I knew that college was not just about attending class, but also about creating memories, developing lifelong friendships and about exploring one’s sexuality.  During college, I met young men from all over the world, and dealt with crushes, conquests, brief relationships and unrequited affections.  By the time I graduated, I had had experiences, which helped me to mature into an adult woman. 

Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, and the cancellation of SpelHouse Homecoming 2020, one can only reminisce.  I know that my college experience wasn’t perfect, by any stretch of the imagination. There are flaws at every institution and kinks in every bureaucratic structure. However, I am forever grateful that I experienced unadulterated “Black Girl Joy” in the absence of otherism, at such a young age.  At 17, I believe that I made one of the best choices for my mental health and personal well being, by choosing to spend those seminal years at Spelman College.

Life or Death: On Being Pregnant and Black

In 2018, tennis star Serena Williams, while recovering in the hospital from delivering her child via C-section, began to experience shortness of breath. Due to her history of pulmonary embolism, she explained to the nurse that she needed a CT scan and possibly IV anticoagulant medication.  The nurse dismissed her concerns, believing that the world class athlete’s pain medications were causing confusion.  Serena did not yield, and hours later, a CT scan revealed small blood clots in her lung, which could have easily ended the new mother’s life. 

My husband and I have been together for about 5 years and vacillate over whether we want children or not. We discuss the loss of our personal freedoms; the financial expense raising children entails in the United States and how parenthood alters a couple’s dynamic.  However, our worries oftentimes lean to the morbid, as we contemplate whether I would survive a pregnancy.  

According to the CDC, Black women in the USA die at a rate of 41 per 100,000 live births.  When comparing maternal mortality rates across the world, the figures are alarming.  White women in the U.S. die at a rate of 13 per 100,000 live births, which is comparable to the maternal mortality rates in the former Soviet bloc countries like Latvia, Hungary and Romania.  Conversely, in Western European countries, the average rate of maternal deaths is between 1.9 to 5 deaths per 100,000 live births.   In other words, although Black women may experience more adverse outcomes during childbirth than White women in the U.S.; compared to women in other Western nations, American White women’s statistics are not good either.

Data collected for over five years by the New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene highlighted that access to prenatal care, and being highly educated did not protect Black women from the inherent biases in the healthcare system.  In one study it revealed that “Black college-educated mothers who gave birth in local hospitals were still more likely to suffer serious pregnancy- or childbirth-related complications compared with women of other races or ethnicities who never graduated from high school.”

In 2016, Dr. Shalon Irving, an epidemiologist at the CDC, died from hypertensive complications, three weeks after delivering her first child.  What could be regarded as more than a stroke of irony, Dr. Irving’s work focused on understanding how structural inequality, trauma and violence made people sick.   In a 2017 NPR article, it states that despite “...two master's degrees and dual-subject PhD., her gold-plated insurance and rock-solid support system...”; race alone was the main factor predicting Dr. Irving’s  fatal outcome.

Although the majority of my African-American friends have had relatively easy pregnancies with uncomplicated deliveries, the fear that I’ll be the one to succumb to childbirth, remains constantly on my mind.  Despite being a healthy, young woman, I often wonder if bringing life into this world could result in my own physical demise.  Equipped with the frightening statistics and information about societal inequities, how does society begin to change a system that is disproportionately killing Black mothers?

It is important to:

1)Recognize the historical context: 

During slavery, Black women were likened to mares and expected to produce as many children as possible, to continue the slave based economy.  The denigration of the Black female body has been one of the legacies of slavery manifesting in the current Black maternal health crisis. As Black people continue to fight for basic human rights, it is not surprising that Black women experience increased health risks and negative outcomes, during such a vulnerable period like childbirth.

2)Advocate for societal changes

There is a need for the federal and state governments to create public health initiatives that promote and improve the disparities in maternal care.  Practitioners must be educated during medical school and residency about their implicit and explicit biases that are resulting in the deaths of specific demographics.

3) Identify disparity in healthy lifestyle choices

About 5 years ago, a friend who was in her second trimester asked me to accompany her to her prenatal appointment, as her husband was out of town. During the visit, the OB was emphatic as she instructed my friend to train for the delivery, likening labor to a triathlon.  

My friend, a surgical resident living in a Miami high rise with amenities like a gym and pool; as well as a husband with above average cooking skills, could adhere to her OB’s recommendations. But what about other Black women, who aren’t as privileged?  Would they be able to prepare for the undue harm and stress pregnancy and delivery might put on their bodies? Due to structural racism, a large segment of women of color typically reside in food deserts without access to healthy fresh food, as well as few safe spaces to exercise.  With minimal activity and poor food options, Black women are often at greater risks of obesity and cardiovascular disease.  

Bearing these inequities in mind, some individuals do not have the option of healthy food choices and remaining physically active, during pregnancy.  So, if a woman must train for pregnancy and the delivery like an upcoming sports event, then it must be imperative that all women have the access to resources that will allow them to maintain good health and decrease the risk of maternal mortality and morbidity.

4) Network to find resources

According to an article posted on LAIST, “What Pregnant Black Women Need To Know To Have A 'Safe And Sacred Birth', Black women have to be proactive  in their care.  They must:

-Find a birth experience that works for their family

-Advocate for themselves in the doctor’s office

-Find providers who will work to improve birth outcomes

-Have the wider Black community support pregnant women 

Last fall, I made an OB Gyn appointment for a problem visit. Over the past few years, I had noticed that my premenstrual mood swings were intensifying.  My mother told me that in her early 30s she had experienced a similar shift, so I decided to see a specialist. As I sat in the doctor’s office and relayed my symptoms, she barely made eye contact.  She dismissed my claims and seemed squeamish about performing a pelvic exam. I eventually dug in my heels, and pulled the ‘doctor card’. This garnered me a glance and a half smile. However, she quickly stated that I was exaggerating my PMS irritability, and as a psychiatrist, I was overanalyzing, looking for a problem. 

I left her office feeling gutted. I quickly went to Google reviews and discovered that other professional Black women had experienced similar treatment with this  practitioner.  After the encounter, I began to re-evaluate my already tenuous plans for motherhood.  If concerns about my period could be summarily discredited, then what might happen if I had any concerns during a pregnancy? 

A month after that experience, I journeyed several miles north to see a Black OB Gyn, who was recommended by a friend. She listened to all of my symptoms, as well as my unspoken concerns. She did a thorough examination and agreed that I was experiencing Premenstrual dysphoric disorder and offered me a variety of treatment options. After careful review, I decided on natural supplementation, which has made a difference in my monthly menses. But beyond that, I felt heard. I felt validated. I felt understood.  The stark difference in the two experiences has shown me that by using my network and seeking out the right practitioner, I can become a mother, without being fearful of death.

Article also published on the Fem Health Project.

Breaking the Chains on Black Female Sexuality

How many lovers are too many for a woman over the course of her lifetime?

How many sexual partners label her promiscuous and a woman of ill-repute?

Who defines a harlot, a slut, a ho, a thot?

And why do most women spend years of their life avoiding these labels?

For centuries, around the world, women have been expected to abstain from sexual intercourse prior to marriage and to adhere to strict rules of chastity. Women have followed these rules either for their physical safety; to uphold their family’s social standing; or because of their religious convictions. 

Although most women have had limited sexual freedom, no group of women have had their sexuality thwarted more than Black women. Over the centuries, there has been minimal progress in the true liberation of black female sexuality. First, she was the “slave”, who was sexually abused, since she was unable to give consent.  She was property, used, but never spoken of.   She was also the desirous mulatto, who consented to sex for financial gain as a kept woman.  In the shadow of slavery and Jim Crow, one may posit that the “good black girl” trope was created to set a standard for black womanhood, in a society that had not accounted for and was not concerned with the sexuality of black women.  However, one can contend that in seeking to reclaim black women’s chastity and social propriety, black women have become imprisoned in a cage of their own making.

Over a decade ago, Steve Harvey released his relationship self-help book, “Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man: What Men Really Think About Love, Relationships, Intimacy, and Commitment”.  For many, this book was a manualized guide to domestic bliss. The book was quoted by celebrities and lay people, and was even adapted to the screen.  The major theme of the book could be distilled to the ‘90 Day Rule’, which purported absolute abstinence during courtship for ninety days.   Almost instantaneously, the personal lives of educated, dynamic Black women were reduced to contestants in a dating game.  In essence, how long could they resist sexual pleasure to reap the “ultimate reward”: of a man committing to a monogamous relationship.  

The book, written by a self made man, seemed to further cement the childhood lessons imparted by Black mothers, aunts and grandmothers:

• “Keep your legs closed!” 

• “If you must...touch it but never put your mouth on it!”. 

• ”Sex isn’t going to get you very far.”

• “Why would he buy the cow if you’re giving away the milk for free?”

• ”Just keep your number low.”

Unfortunately, there are some people who have abstained from sex and adhered to the rules, only to find themselves without the promised payoff: a husband. In some cases, these women may experience emotional anguish, as they attempt to navigate this flawed framework.  Allowing for religious beliefs, if the woman is saddled with the power to decide how far the relationship will go sexually, then why would the decision of the final commitment to the relationship rest solely with the man?  And if sleeping with a woman “prematurely” makes a man devalue her, isn’t that more a statement about his character and general regard for women, opposed to her worth as a person? 

From a professional perspective,  the psychological impact of socializing black women to believe that virginity is a prize and chastity insures future marital bliss, can be detrimental to their mental health.   It is almost cruel that black women are required to abstain from sex, in the hopes of attracting a husband,  who according to plan, will be the only man she would sleep with for the rest of her life.  It becomes a vicious cycle, with Black women abstaining until the best candidate comes along: typically a high earner with a good pedigree.  It is apparent, that in these transactional romantic liaisons, once the barter has taken place, the sexually inexperienced woman has now committed to a lifetime of possibly mediocre sex, without ever exploring more pleasurable experiences.

The time is well overdue for Black women to reclaim their sexual agency.  They must dictate how, when and with whom they share their bodies.  Their primary goal in having sex should not be securing a husband, but fashioning an erotic life that fulfills whatever their desires may be.  From a legacy fraught with trauma and powerlessness, here are some suggestions for how to create a new standard for the next generation. 

1)Educate the youth

Parents of boys must teach them to see girls as their equals. It is important to educate young boys and men about their female counterparts; and have them learn that a woman’s worth is not tied to her sexual experiences.  This is in no way encouraging excessive promiscuity that could also be detrimental to a young woman’s mental health. However, young Black women should be told that sex isn’t bad or dirty or wrong.  It is imperative that she understands that at the right time, when she feels in control of herself, with the use of protection, it is okay to explore her sexuality, with a trusted partner.

2) Begin self exploration

Black women’s sexuality can no longer be micromanaged by others, albeit family, friends or pop culture. Each individual has to define a happy and healthy sex life that fits her individual desires without the added burden of securing a husband.  To this end, women should ask honest questions of themselves and their partner(s):

• Am I happy with my current sexual interactions? Is it too much? Or too little? 

• Is my partner hearing my needs? 

• And is my partner capable of fulfilling my sexual needs?

3) Address sexual dysfunction/libido issues 

After centuries of creating the moralistic black woman, dispelling this label once she’s found “the one”, can prove difficult.  After years of chastity, she is suddenly expected to blossom into a porn star with no hang ups or prohibitions to her sexual creativity.  Unfortunately for some, there is no proverbial flip of the switch.  Some “good Black girls”, who are now wives, may need therapy or coaching to learn to enjoy what was once forbidden.

What’s Your Type: Preferences or Prejudices?

So, what’s your type?

Everyone has a type or a preference in a mate. Some like tall and athletic, others prefer teddy bears. Some like very pale skin, whereas others are attracted to highly melanated skin. However, one must be mindful that these preferences don’t exist in a vacuum. The influence of parents, the community, as well as the media all contribute to what people perceive as ideal.  What is often defined as physically attractive is very subjective, and a culmination of beliefs and external influences. 

In light of the newest iteration of the Black Power movement, many facets of Black excellence and beauty are being highlighted.  As we explore our identity, this leaves one to query ‘is black beautiful?’ or rather “which black is beautiful?”

1) Being dark skin and being beautiful are not mutually exclusive concepts

Many individuals, men and women alike, grapple with the notion of an individual, being an attractive woman and having dark skin.  To others, it is a rarity to see a beautiful dark skinned woman.  Kanye West rapped about this phenomenon in 2010: “...with some light skinned girls and some Kelly Rowlands...”; which is in essence, the updated reason of, ‘you’re cute for a dark skinned girl.’

Colorism is centered in gender bias, and has a harsher impact on women of color.  The same way structures exist to uphold racism by depicting black people as inferior;  there are colorist structures that consistently depict dark skinned women as unattractive or intrinsically flawed.  Vogue magazine’s recent cover feature of Simone Biles came under scrutiny by critics for its poor lighting and subpar editing.   These blatant practices propagate racist and colorist ideas about Black beauty and Black womanhood.

The supermodels Ducky Thot and Anok Yai are gorgeous women, who are subjectively deemed more beautiful than the average woman. Yet, despite the international acclaim, they have both spoken out about their experiences with skin color discrimination and its lasting effects on their psyche.  In addressing white privilege in all of its facets, one must be just as dogged in addressing light skin privilege.  Just as speaking out against racism does not cause racism, it is also important to remember that speaking out against colorism does not cause colorism.  

2) Colorism: a global epidemic 

Around the world, dark skinned women, regardless of race or ethnic group, are invisible.  From the dark skinned South East Asians to the Afro-Latinas of South America, women of darker hues are subjected to overt and subtle discrimination in these societies.  In the seminal article, The Blacker the Berry: Gender, Skin Tone, Self-Esteem, and Self-Efficacy,  the authors address the psychological damage of skin tone discrimination on young American women.

There are numerous recorded testimonies from women around the world who have attempted to assert their value and find self-confidence in colorist societies.  However, the time for storytelling is past, and now is the time to restructure people’s minds.  It is imperative that people understand that skin color discrimination, is the new age racism. As European populations and political hegemony come under threat, people with lighter skin tones will act as proxies for white supremacy around the world.

3) Scholarly research and candid discourse are the paths to healing

A) External work

Individuals of all races, genders, and ethnic groups need to reflect on beliefs that they hold about female standards of beauty.  In group settings, whenever there is a need to debate who are the most beautiful women (which is a problematic activity to begin with), ask: 

-are they all the same skin color?

-is there variation in the type of women being discussed?

-do they possess the same facial features and hair?

-is the beauty ideal reflective of European standards?

By exposing individual biases, people can start to change their perspective.  People must be allowed to view their beauty preferences as mutable and flexible.  In exposing oneself to different ways of perceiving beauty, people can come to accept that there are different forms of beauty, regardless of skin color. 

B) Internal work

Dark skinned women in the Western world know where they stand in the beauty hierarchy, regardless of the curl of their hair, the fullness of their lips or the softness of their skin.  In the comfort of their own home, they can bask in the dynamism of black beauty and tailor their IG feed, to see only beautiful black women.  They can say, “My black is beautiful!”  However, at least once a month without failure, a celebrity will say something disparaging about dark skinned Black women, sparking the same hackneyed conversation.  So, as a dark skinned woman, how is it possible to maintain a healthy self esteem and a sane mind in a culture that is unequivocally biased? 

• Participate in the conversation: 

In the context of the recent #BLM movement, several conversations about colorism are springing up on social media (see @darkest.hue).  Support these platforms, read the stories of others, and provide support when and where possible.

• Face the societal bias:

Many dark skinned women are uncomfortable speaking about colorism, often holding it as a secret shame. But by affirming one’s existence in a society that is hell bent on invalidating Black women, and to a greater extent, dark skinned Black women, it is possible to find solace in owning and harnessing one’s formidable power.

• Changing the narrative through research:

There’s a need for scholarly research on skin color discrimination focusing on the damage caused by biased perceptions of female beauty. There must also be exploration into the psychiatric and psychological effects of colorism, on post college age dark skinned women.  Frameworks must be developed to dismantle colorist policies throughout societies around the world. 

If I counted the number of times I was called “Midnight Black” in a pejorative manner, throughout my life; or think about the times in India, when I was chased by shop owners because they mistook me for a Dalit (an Untouchable), I would run out of air.   We can all continue to trade stories and worst case experiences, but now is the time to dismantle the structures that oppress many women around the world.  

Shining Light: My Quest to Research Colorism

During my third year of residency, an attending said to me, “You only care about beauty because you’re beautiful.”  She had at once complimented me and insulted me.  I was seeking a mentor on the faculty to assist me in conducting research on the perceptions of beauty and skin color, in post-undergraduate Black women.  However, she seemed to believe that my research topic “lacked relevance” --  a phrase that I would frequently hear as I endeavored to explore this topic.

For months, I searched the psychiatric literature for previous works on skin color discrimination, perceptions of beauty and long standing psychiatric distress in women.  Surprisingly, there were no substantive articles written on this topic.  My interest was piqued and I decided there and then, to make this my life’s work. 

Despite my keen interest in the subject, my medical training was not sufficient to make me an adept researcher; so I sought the guidance of a campus advisor.  Unfortunately, the majority of the professors I contacted had never heard of  ‘colorism’ and subsequently, had no interest in supporting my work.  Eventually, I found a professor who was willing to learn about colorism, and to help me formulate my research ideas. I got to work creating a pilot study and collecting online surveys from 90+ post undergraduate women. 

From the start of the study, I received numerous critiques in the comment sections from women completing the questionnaire.   Some were inflammatory: “This doesn’t even %^&$#$ matter!’ to ‘Why would you even research this?”  As well as: “This topic doesn’t even matter anymore...no one cares”. 

Some women who were close to me, perused the survey making it clear that they had never experienced colorism, and stating emphatically that the topic was not pertinent.  

Was I being gaslighted?  

Was colorism a figment of my imagination, and something “I” alone noticed in the Black community at large?   

Between my friends' testimonies of not having experienced colorism and the vitriolic comments of the survey’s participants, I became discouraged.  Furthermore, due to flaws in the study’s design, the results were a hodgepodge of data points that struggled to coalesce into a clear thesis. 

Several months later, still committed to my research goal,  I reformulated the study.  I submitted an abstract to a Black psychiatrists’ conference and was invited to present my fledgling research findings to the participants. During my poster presentation, the conversation quickly shifted from scholarly inquiries to individuals’ personal anecdotes about their past experiences. 

A mature, female psychiatrist began to cry --  the mere discussion of colorism --  had unearthed memories of discriminatory treatment during her childhood.  Another psychiatrist, meaning well, stated that my approach to the subject was too direct and needed to be broached more gently.  After this experience, I concluded that the majority of Caucasian psychiatrists didn’t know of colorism or rather feigned lack of knowledge; while the majority of African American psychiatrists I met felt that in the overall struggle for racial equality the research topic lacked significance. 

So, I stopped. I stopped researching the topic.  I stopped broaching the subject in casual conversation with my peers. Surprisingly, one of my mentors, Dr. Dave Henderson, shared a different opinion regarding the response to the study.  He felt that the passionate comments made at the conference and on the questionnaire, reflected the striking impact that the subject of colorism was having on people.  Dr. Henderson, surmised that I was hitting a nerve and that I should explore new ways to pursue the topic.  Despite his supportive point of view, I felt it was impossible to research colorism within the psychiatric discipline, and I should leave it on the vine to wither and die. 

But now, four years later, in light of the momentum generated by the Black Lives Matter movement, I have been inspired to start again.  This time, listening to my elders, perhaps with a more gentle approach...

Racist #MeToo: Coping with Racial Trauma

It seems that the past month has been a time of reckoning in various industries,  primarily in the media.  Many have called it a #racistmetoo, with Black people stepping forward to tell tales of overt racist transgressions, as well as microaggressions. For some people, it has been cathartic to tell these stories; and for others it has been empowering to read them, knowing that they are not alone in their experiences. 

Some people have taken to the streets to physically protest systemic racism, while others have donated money to a variety of causes.  Some individuals have found strength in these discussions or being physically present in the struggle. However, there are others, who find the clips of racial violence and images of Black protesters being assaulted by police, nightmare inducing.  Many are being forced to confront the racial traumas that have long been repressed. 

So how do we cope with racial trauma, which has existed insidiously, while shaping various part of our lives:

1)Make little changes to reclaim our agency

A few years ago, I adopted a uniform of leggings, sports cap and sneakers, for my shopping trips. For most of my life, I had been dressing up to go shopping, to deter sales associates from following me around the store. Finally, I acknowledged within myself, if someone was going to discriminate against me for being Black, it was going to happen no matter what I wore or how much money I had in my bank account. This little change has been liberating for me.  I see it as a fight against the paradigms of race and class, that help to uphold white supremacy.   In other words, reflect on the things you do deflect racist actions, and reclaim your space.

2)Me versus the movement?: Finding your place

Some people may feel guilty for not protesting and being “on top of everything”.  Although this may be a period of awakening for many; there are some of us, who were never asleep.  It is key to respect everyone’s path in rediscovering their Blackness and grappling with anti-Black racism.  There are individuals who are employed in some professions where voicing their opinions would lead to subsequent unemployment.  If attending every march is where you are in your journey, do so.  Conversely, if you need to log off of social media for a week and filter news reports through friends and family, it’s fine to do so as well. 

3) Seek professional help

There are a litany of anecdotes  that many Black people carry around with them on a daily basis.  The silent pain and sadness may manifest in their demeanor or may cause detriment to their overall physical and mental health. If you find that  nightmares are intensifying and symptoms of anxiety are not decreasing, it’s recommended that you seek professional help.  It is important that you find a therapist who is attuned to the effects of racism on the Black individual and who is willing to work with you in developing helpful coping strategies.

The Rearview Mirror: Driving While Black

For as long as I can remember driving to Sag Harbor to my friend’s Kathryn’s house has been a reprieve. In this space, although my Blackness was ever present, it seemed that the white people there could tell that “we belonged”. 

During the summer holidays, Memorial Day and July 4th, the open air, the manicured hedges, and the crisp air all recharged my soul, giving me the energy to return to the daily hustle in Brooklyn.  Maybe this was because Sag Harbor has historically been a black enclave where people of color could roam freely without white people glaring.   Or maybe because it was an escape from the tight quarters of East New York. But that all changed on June 12, 2020.    

Our trip had started off as any other trip to Sag Harbor. I made the left turn off of Bridgehampton Sag Harbor Turnpike onto Scuttle Hole Road and then in my rear view mirror, I saw him. 

At first, I thought nothing of it: just a police officer driving through the back roads with me. However, I felt that feeling in the pit of my stomach, that sets in whenever a police officer drives behind, in front or next to me.  My hands clenched up and my legs got tense; my heart started to beat faster and faster.  Nevertheless, I tried my best to ignore these feelings and to give the situation the benefit of the doubt. 

But after a few minutes, the situation felt different. After every left turn, every second right off a roundabout, every right turn, I saw the same police car following my every move. I saw his bald white head through my rear view mirror and I wondered, ‘how much longer was he going to follow me?’

I started to think:  what had I done wrong? 

• Was I speeding before this? 

• Did I run a red light? 

• What had I done? 

Did he not see my Alpha Phi Alpha plates? Surely he could realize that I was in a fraternity and I had gone to college. 

• I was safe...you don’t need to follow me, Sir. 

• I belong here! 

• I earned this right! 

I  had worked hard and had done what I was supposed to do to allow me to be in this space. Now, I felt stripped of the armor that had allowed me to navigate these white spaces in the past. I thought, ‘How could this be happening to me? I had done everything right...They said to get a good education, get a good job, obey the law and you’re good.’ 

Or was it my 2007 Honda Accord, where the ‘H” had fallen off? I started to beat myself up.  Lamarr, why did you still have this car?  Maybe if you had a fancier car he wouldn't be following you. Maybe with a fancier car, I’d be able to show that I belonged. “Hey officer, Black man in Sag Harbor in a BMW, I’m good, no need to follow.” 

Another 10 minutes elapsed and he continued to follow me. I was terrified and began to tightly grasp the wheel.  At every stop sign, I came to a complete stop and tried not to make a wrong move because I didn't want to give him a reason to pull me over. It even felt like bystanders were following this scenario in their heads, thinking it might not end well. 

Then, I started to play out scenarios in my head of what could happen. Each scenario made me feel like I was screwed, anyway.  Should I pull over or make the next right turn so he would go past me? But then, if he saw that I was lost, would he further question where I was going? Who did I know out here? What business did my boyfriend Michael and our corgi have out there in Sag? Sure he might just question me and give me a ticket; but after seeing countless black men killed by police for just existing, it could end with me being arrested, injured or dead.

We arrived in the town of Sag Harbor and I made the right on Jermaine Ave. I drove by what looked like a bicycle accident and I slowed down. An officer acknowledged me and motioned for me to go around the cars.  I stuck my hand outside the car to wave to the officer, thanking him as he ushered me past the scene. 

It felt good to stick my arm out the window in full view of the officer behind me, to see me being acknowledged by his white colleague. Then I thought, ‘Lamarr you idiot he was following you to get to this crash scene...all this nonsense you were thinking was just in your head!’ 

But no. He drove around the scene and continued to follow me. 

My heart sank. 

Fear set in as I knew that I’d eventually have to stop and get out of the car. I told my boyfriend to call Kathryn and tell her to meet us outside her house. The officer would see I was meeting someone and drive off. But Kathryn didn’t pick up her phone.

I told Michael to call again, because this was serious.  Sadly the weight of what was happening and why I was frantically asking him to get a hold of Kathryn went over his head, as a non black POC. 

Again, I started replaying scenarios in my head of what could happen:

1. I stop and he drives right past us. 

2. I stop and he gets out of the car and questions what business I have here? Then, I play the good Negro...Yes, Sir; No, Sir...Anything you request Sir, in my work voice. 

3. I stop and he gets out of the car and questions what business I have there? I rebuff his questioning and ask what reason does he have to stop me? I would say, ‘Do you know where I work, Sir? Do you know who you’re talking to?’ 

At the next stop sign, I go left and he goes straight. 

The Balancing Act: Pro-Blackness and Interracial Love

About 9 months into my relationship with Tino, I was sitting with my mother on her couch, when she let out a series of prolonged sighs.   I asked what was wrong, and looking me squarely in the eye, she exclaimed, “It’s my fault that you’re with a white man...I made you watch all those Turner Classic Movies with Cary Grant and Gregory Peck.”  I doubled over with laughter and immediately questioned if she was serious.  When I looked into her eyes, they confirmed the gravity of her statement.

Over the past month, I’ve wrestled with the age old question, can a person be pro-Black and still have a partner of another race?  My husband is a fair skinned German man and I am a dark skinned Afro-Caribbean American woman.  Throughout our relationship, we have faced our share of racism and prejudice as an interracial couple.  We have even walked away from some relationships that were not champions of our love.  Yet, despite all of this, race has never been the biggest obstacle in our union. 

With the recent state sanctioned murders by police in the United States,  much attention has been focused on racism in all aspects of American society.  Some evenings, I have found myself wondering if by marrying my husband, had I subscribed to Eurocentric ideals and told myself otherwise?  However, by the first sound of my alarm clock in the morning, when I turn to my husband, I can’t imagine being married to anyone else.      

From our first Skype date, I told Tino that I had over $200,000 in student loan debt from medical school.  Since revealing that fact wasn’t a deal breaker,  we proceeded to talk about our parents, our upbringings, and our hobbies.  During those 5 hours of conversation, we eventually worked our way to race.  I told him of the systemic racism in the United States and how racial prejudice could vary from state to state. He discussed that the German educational system taught students about prejudice after the Jewish Holocaust; but dismissed the ‘silent racism’ endured by African and Turkish immigrants. To this end, despite assertions that the past few weeks must have been especially challenging for us as a couple, race has never been a taboo topic of discussion in our relationship.

Maybe because I was raised by a mother with Pan-Africanist beliefs; or maybe my summers in Senegal allowed me to soak up African culture beyond slavery and colonialism. Or maybe because I chose to attend an HBCU because high school was too racially charged. Or maybe I’ve always just seen race relations as they are and not how they are supposed to be.  Therefore, it has not been difficult for me  to discuss black identity and racism, within our marriage.

So, during these turbulent times, through my readings and having candid conversations with my husband, I’ve redefined some core principles about race and love:

• I do not believe in a colorblind society. 

  I understand that race is a social construct. However, ‘whiteness’ has endured for centuries; and merely exclaiming “we are all humans”, cannot upend a racist society that is rotten to its core. 

• I do not believe that love can trump hate.  

  My love for my husband and my husband’s love for me, cannot erase centuries of Black people’s persecution by White people.  I do not believe that my future biracial children will magically rectify the social and economic inequities propagated against Black people.

• We will discuss race openly with our offspring.

  One biracial friend recently shared with us that his parents never addressed race, resulting in a long-lasting identity crisis for him and his sibling.  He taught us that it is essential to talk about race with young children, to decrease future feelings of confusion and angst. My husband and I have agreed that our future children will be raised as Black.

• Colorism plays a role in relationships, both intraracially and interracially.

  Colorism is the “foot soldier of anti-black racism”, as it upholds the color hierarchy within the Black community.  I can contend that solely due to my dark skin, I have been told that I didn’t fit the “wife template”.  All shades of blackness must be protected and valued; and Black women must be free to love and be loved, without having to conform to Eurocentric ideals of beauty. 

• Dating a Black man does not mean he celebrates his Blackness, by default.  

  In the past, I have dated some Black men that did not celebrate me or my type of Blackness.  In most instances, these individuals did not embrace their own Black identity, and subsequently projected their issues onto me.  Similarly, I have dated some white men who publicly ascribed to liberal ideals, but privately harbored deep rooted prejudice against people of color.  In the end, I chose to be with a person who loves me and who celebrates my authentic self; who understands his societal privilege, yet on a daily basis stands against racist ideologies and practices.

So reader, I pose the question to you, is it possible for you to love your Blackness, and yet share your life with someone of another ethnic/racial group? 

Exiting the USA: Escapism or Self Preservation?

The Spring of 2020 has been a time rife with despair and palpable fear. With the racial inequities of the healthcare system further exposed by COVID-19, to the watching of videotaped lynchings of Black bodies, some African Americans are wondering if they can truly live their “best life” in the United States of America?  With a cursory internet search, one can find several platforms encouraging Black Americans to move abroad.  There are listings of racism-free cities with universal healthcare and enforced gun laws; any place painted with the right brush, can seem like a paradise.  

For decades, artists like Josephine Baker and Nina Simone sought  reprieve from American racism by living overseas.  And like Richard Wright, before him, James Baldwin moved to Paris to escape the racism of the 1950s. Yet even for these artists, the expanse of oceans didn’t protect them from racial violence or anti-black racism. In their memoirs and works, many speak of the nuances of being a Black American expatriate, opposed to an African from a former colony, within the societal and economic class hierarchies.  A quick scroll through one’s Instagram feed, will show that many people are turning to Baldwin’s writings to articulate their sense of feeling trapped, and unwanted in one’s country.  

As a black woman, who is deeply affected by the current turbulent climate, I feel compelled to spend the remaining years of my youth, elsewhere.  Although my first foray into living overseas was not a “success”, I did come away with a great deal of insight and knowledge that makes me feel almost ready to make the move again.  So, to those of you who are contemplating moving abroad, here are some tips to consider before you sell your furniture and break your rental lease:

1. Visit the place 

This might seem pretty straight forward. However, with colorful Instagram feeds and high quality photography, it’s easy to be digitally transported to locales that you’ve never set foot in.   Most people travel during the summer, but before moving abroad, to get a true feel for the climate, return to the same place, at different times of the year.  I visited Portugal in the summertime and had a wonderful time.  However, I doubt that I’d be able to amble up and down the rolling hills and cobblestone streets of Lisbon, during the rainy winter months.  

In addition, it would be a good idea to stay  in a short term rental and do mundane chores like grocery shopping and going to the pharmacy.   From performing these basic activities, you would be able to determine if the location is ideal for you, without the rose colored lens of being a tourist.  

2. Figuring out employment

When I moved to Germany in 2017, one of my biggest obstacles was employment. As a psychiatrist with United States credentials, I was unable to ‘practice my trade’ in the European Union.  Therefore, it was key that I obtained employment from a US based company before venturing overseas. Once I decided to move, I sought out telemedicine companies that would allow me to practice medicine, from abroad. Throughout the process, although I crossed my t’s and dotted my i’s; due to a variety of factors, the promises made by the company did not materialize.

On October 2, 2017, at 2 a.m., I wrote in my journal:

“Happiness isn't for black girls. I've been in bed for the past 90 minutes, tossing and turning about my future... And although all of these obstacles were unforeseeable...I still blame myself for thinking that I could live in a romantic comedy. “Yah I'll just go live in Europe and just figure it out...’”

In retrospect, my thoughts were a bit melodramatic; but, living in a foreign country with a lack of income, can be a scary experience.   It is important to know that regardless of your training or profession,  you should have backup streams of income outside of your particular field or expertise.  

3. Recognizing cultural differences within the country

My husband is a very good sales person, and three years ago, I was unaware of his ability to sell water to a well.  Shortly upon my arrival in Hamburg, I soon realized that the cold and sterile social culture of the city, didn’t match my personality.  Having spent four years in loud, bright and over the top Miami; Hamburg’s bleak skies,  silent city centers and hushed tones of people in public spaces, was a slow death for me.  I longed to hear loud, hearty laughter at brunch and to see overt expressions of joy in the streets. From a racial perspective, the city was ethnically diverse; but there was a dearth of professional blacks.  For many, I was the first black doctor they had ever encountered, which seemed to garner veiled prejudicial comments.  

In contrast, on our weekend trips to Berlin, I felt alive. The city vibrated with energy that reminded me of NYC.   A two hour train ride away revealed the stark cultural differences of these two cities, and highlighted the importance of finding a place that fits one’s  individual needs within the same country.

Even on the African continent, as a person of color, there can be cultural clashes.  On an outing one day, I wore a loose fitting black dress that stopped just above my knee.  Within a few moments of walking through the crowded streets of Dakar, men began to stare and chastise me, for my outfit.  I grew increasingly terrified, as a mob of sorts started to gather, and I ran back to the safety of my father’s car.  Two months before my trip, two friends from the USA had journeyed to the same city center outfitted in shorts and mini-skirts, without any issue. However, because I phenotypically appear Senegalese, I was subjected to the rules of Islamic modesty that apply to local women.

4. Distance from loved ones

Since I was about 8 years old, I have spent alternating summers in Barbados or Senegal, often traveling alone.  At 17, I left Brooklyn and started college in Atlanta. So at 30, when it was time to move to Germany, I didn’t give it much thought. Only at the airport, as I hugged my mother goodbye, did the gravity of the move set in.   The real feelings of homesickness and being away from friends and family are not always immediately revealed.   However, the value of these relationships in one’s daily functioning become apparent when one is separated by time zones. 

Also, many of us can save up for  a one way ticket to whatever foreign locale we desire, , but what about when there’s the need to return home?   In the case of an emergency or just a short visit; the cost of a ticket; and the time needed to reach one’s destination must be taken into account when thinking of living abroad. 

It is key to remember, that as a person of color and especially a woman, there will discrimination and prejudice, wherever you go.  The questions are: can you tolerate the brand of racism you may encounter and is the quality of your life improved, by being in this new country? Also, remember that wherever you go, you “take you with you”.  A change in environment can definitely bring out the best or worst traits in an individual; but your insecurities and quirks will always reveal themselves, regardless of the time zone. So once you’ve assessed the driving motivation behind your desire to move/relocate; you’ve identified your goals; and set up some contingency plans, you are sure to  flourish wherever your feet may land. 

The Talk: Parenting for P.O.C

It was a Friday evening and I was feeling incredibly tired. However, the fatigue followed me the next day and the day after that. By Monday I had an excruciating headache, but I tried to power through my Zoom meetings for work. I squinted from the pain in my head and my throat was sore. I began to panic and to count backwards to 14 days prior. 

I couldn’t breathe. 

My chest felt tight. 

I emailed my supervisor, ended my work day and set up a video appointment with my primary physician. I called the COVID hotline and was told to self-isolate and monitor my symptoms. I immediately packed an overnight bag for my son, and sent him to stay with his father. 

As a cancer survivor, I truly thought I was going to die.  I went to the local urgent care center seeking further help. Initially, the physician assistant was dismissive and stated that I was exaggerating my symptoms.  I was told there were not enough tests for me to be given one. I knew the chemotherapy regimen that had treated my cancer, had left scarring on my lungs. As the PA was resistant to explore my full medical history, I advocated for myself, and sternly requested a chest X-Ray.  When the results came back, they showed I had  fibrous tissue in one of my lungs.  The previously disinterested physician assistant changed her tone. She consulted with the attending and then provided a more comprehensive exam. I was sent home with a prescription for Vitamin C, Tylenol and a referral to a drive-thru COVID-19 testing site. 

For two weeks, I was anxious with an unrelenting headache and the constant feeling of a popcorn kernel stuck in my throat.  Every day, I drank turmeric and ginger tea and took vitamins.  Daily, my siblings in Trinidad instructed me on how to create homemade remedies. One of my sisters was afraid that I might die and insisted that she watch me sleep on the phone. Although I was physically isolated, I felt the support and encouragement of my siblings and friends. They checked in on me, sent me groceries and my cousin even drove all the way from Brooklyn to Harlem to bring me a home cooked meal.

I spoke often with my son via FaceTime, but it was difficult. It was the longest period of time we had been apart. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t be with me. All he knew was that a virus had separated him from his mom, his school friends and the outside world. 

I cried a lot. 

I had a panic attack. 

I read and listened to too many news reports of black men and women dying at home; their neglected bodies rotting, because no one believed that they were sick, when they had sought medical help. 

Every day, I credit my support system for being there when I needed them most. Eventually, I recovered and was relieved when my son and I were finally reunited. 

Yet there was more to come.

A few months ago, before the city was placed on lockdown, I moved to a new neighborhood. Built in the 1940s, the buildings in my area were constructed to house African Americans who were restricted from living in white-only buildings in lower Manhattan. Despite rapid gentrification, I was enamored with the beauty of the building and the vibrant black culture of the neighborhood. Less than a week after recovering from Covid-19, I was confronted with bias in my “up and coming” neighborhood.

After two weeks of being ill, it was almost a pleasure to be able to do my laundry, again.  I placed my clothes in the communal dryers, and entered the elevator bank with my 5 year old son. We waited for the doors to close, and I was taken aback when a foot prevented them from closing.  Its owner wanted to know if I had a Bank of America card. I said no, assuming that she had found a BOA card in the laundry room. She demanded that I return  to the laundry room with her, because she could not find her bank card. Her tone was similar to a police officer doing a shakedown.  Despite my irritation, I followed her, to prevent the situation from escalating in front of my son.  I suggested she check her bag, again.  When she placed her hand in her bag, she pulled out the missing card.

Before my young child, I had been dehumanized.  I told the woman her actions were racist and egregious.  Her defense was that she didn’t know me as a resident of the building, implying that I didn’t live there. My quick retort was, “ I don’t know you either!” 

The irony of a white woman, in the 21st century,  moving into a historically black space, built to house black people, accusing me of a petty crime did not go unnoticed.  After I delivered a poised but eviscerating tongue lashing, she began to cry.  She made sure to point out that she was not a racist. Her tears angered me more; but I remained level-headed because my son was watching. 

Upstairs, in the safety of our home, my son expressed his fear and confusion over what had taken place in the laundry room. This horrible experience became a teaching moment for me to instruct him on how to stand up for himself when faced with racial bias. 

As a black mother, one might wonder, how soon is too soon to have “the talk” with one’s children? 

Apparently it is never too early.   

What is known for sure, is that as a black person, I can be left to die when feeling ill; ignored by biased healthcare providers, accused of petty theft and arbitrarily killed for just existing. In retrospect, I’m not sure which was worse: battling COVID-19; the fear of dying due to a biased healthcare  system; or  my encounter with laundry room Karen. 

Coping with COVID: Donna’s Story

About a month ago, the hashtag #BeatCOVID-19athome began trending.

My first response? I had found my people. 

So that day, as I retweeted a #BEATCOVID-19athome thread that mirrored my own experience, I gazed at the cocktail of over the counter medications aiding me in my recovery. I wondered how many of us were told to stay at home and self treat, due to the highly contagious nature of the virus. Unless things got worse.

Over the course of this ordeal,  things never worsened to the point, where my fiancé or I required hospitalization. For that, I am grateful. I’m also grateful that I didn’t have to beat it alone or deal with the loss of my job, as a result of my illness.  Still there are indelible marks, beyond the antibodies, that will serve as a reminder of my experience.  Post COVID-19, I see myself, my thoughts, and my relationships so differently. 

As my body fought one battle against the virus, my mind was fighting another.  Once it became clear that I had contracted COVID, the crippling fear of death and loss were an unexpected foe.  Ambulance sounds made my heart beat ten times faster, as I wondered if  they would one day carry me or my fiancé to the hospital. The constant chest tightness and “running-while-standing-in place” feeling made it difficult to trust any signs that I was truly getting better. The circulation of misinformation in the media and my obsession with knowing all that I could, made me read more than I should have.  Based on my research, one moment I would be ‘ok’ and in the next, I would soon be meeting my maker.  Finally, after weeks of unrelenting fear and sleeplessness,  I gave in and took an anxiety pill.  I slept for almost 13 hours, and awakened to a body that reminded me of how different  peace felt from the earthly hell I had been experiencing, some of which was my own making. 

I told very few friends about my emotional struggles; since stories of those who had contracted COVID and were in dire straits, left me in despair.  Although I spoke to my mom daily, I didn’t tell her that  I had the virus. My mother is a worrier and I knew I could not battle her thoughts and anxieties when I was struggling with my own.  So, I deliberately omitted key details in our conversations about students and faculty members I had been in close contact with, who had contracted the virus. 

However, the few I entrusted with the details showed up for me in the best and most unexpected ways.  One friend did our grocery shopping; while other friends and family members sent meds, masks, and supplies that we could not easily access.  Folks that I didn’t expect checked in. Only God knows how many prayers were sent up on our behalf.   These actions were small reminders, that in the midst of it all, hope, faith, and love would guide us to the other side of recovery.

This virus is a silent killer and so are the mental health issues that it leaves in its wake.  Although most of our lives have been disrupted in some way or another, the collective path forward should reject the idea that healing is a one-size-fits-all experience. Since recovering from COVID-19, I’ve become more proactive regarding self-care. I’ve begun to see a therapist again and to make lifestyle changes, that I had put off for too long. I plan my days and weeks with the awareness that joy and peace are my earthly inheritance; and living in the present gives me unfiltered access to these states of being. I’ve taken control of my healing. I’m trusting that faith, hope, and love will guide the healing of our nation as well.