Let me tell you about my childhood. I loved Barbies, listening to Shakira, N’sync, and Sugar Ray on the radio, Golden Corral and reading any book I could get my hands. I grew up in Columbia, Missouri and have fond memories of gray fall days driving past yellow fields on the way to my grandparents’ house. I lived around the corner from the private, non-denominational school that I attended for most of my elementary and middle school. I am Cameroonian-American and ate my body weight in fufu and okra soup by the time I was 6 1/2. My first full black (not mixed) friend was in 7th grade. Basically, I was far from “woke”. In high school I almost exclusively chose to date boys around my own complexion or darker. Fast forward to my collegiate years where my best friend happened to be an active member of the Social Justice Center. The guys I was obsessed with for most of those 4 years was olive toned with green eyes. Add to the fact that my other best friend introduced me to Tumblr and my life was never the same. I bring up the aesthetic nature of my dating life only because I feel like my attractions became so overanalyzed to the point that after my “awakening” I still haven’t sorted out preference from conditioning (rolls eyes).
Upon learning about identities, colorism, systematic oppression, blatant name discrimination, previously hidden documentations of slavery practices, white feminism as well as being hammered with images and videos of police violence, I quickly became overwhelmed. Don’t get me wrong, it was a relief to have names for some of the experiences and feelings I’d been having my entire life but had no rational way to explain, however I had no idea how to handle or cope with this new knowledge. No interaction with a white person from those moments forward was ever without suspicion (which might not be a bad thing to be honest), and my race-related insecurities about my looks that were lightly present yet nameless intensified. The positive effects of Tumblr and other social media, i.e. Blackout, #melanin and the writings of Nayirrah Wayeed and others were honestly outshadowed by the wool being pulled from my eyes in my day to day life.
Post graduation, I moved out into the real world and the constant face to palm feelings deepend. There was the time I began drunk yelling at a random black guy we met and my best friend over his “Ethiopian women are more beautiful than black women” comment. Everyone was super uncomfortable and it was clear they thought I overreacted. And here’s the thing about the real world (I know starting a sentence with and is a sin of all sins but I’m going straight to hell today), even if the majority of people you interact with frequently have been to college, they’re not woke, and they don’t care. They will offer you cordial words at the least and go right on being ignorant. University is not like the real world. You can go to HR, or your boss, or your best friend and say hey, that was racist/offensive and they will blink, record your complaint or brush you off. So there’s that to add to the pile of frustration.
A typical day in the life of post-enlightened Azia goes like this (thoughts in italics): Wakes up, checks phone and sees another racist act in the news that I’m nearly desensitized to at this point, cereal, bodega where I’m watched the whole time (is it because I’m black?), coworker at work makes comment about “good hair” (the complete and total negative ass history behind this is too extensive to explain and I’m tired today), remembers a vague conversation with other coworker about how racist Chinese lady says only black people eat crab rangoons (a response was beneath me), smiles at cute guy on train (not sure if he’s into black girls or black girls who don’t look mixed), checks Instagram 50 times only to be paraded with images of whites, hispanics, asians, purples, blues and oranges all wearing durags, braids, lip implants and life implants brimming with remnants black culture (should I feel some type of way about this or can I let it go?).
On top of my trust issues due to my childhood, datinghood and friend breakups so far, I just feel entirely oversaturated with race conversations, race issues and race period. I need to stop and insert disclaimer that I do not in any way want them to stop happening or light to stop being brought to these issues. It’s just in addition to learning technical names and reading about all of the emotional trauma caused by white supremacy, I have become some sort of spokesperson or meter to all of the white people I know about every single race issue or injustice.
Since it’s so cool to be woke, everyone wants to be it and talk about it and connect over it all the time without actually being woke. Like, has it never occurred to any white person ever (or other minority to be honest, every other minority’s a lil racist towards black people too) that maybe when we’re out for drinks I don’t want to talk about a shooting, or your latest brush with racism, or me not needing sunscreen, or your good ally deed for the day. Hello! I’m black, single, first gen American on my father’s side, darker than socially acceptable no matter how many #melanin hashtags flood my timeline, and trying to have healthy, confident relationships while enjoying my looks before they disappear. STFU. Think about what you’re saying. Think about what you’re doing. What’s the point of all this knowledge if you still can’t see me as a regular human being who’s broken, broke and crawling through her 20s on her knees and elbows like a miner (or minor w/e).
That’s my biggest qualm with racism, racists, and inherently racist white people. The lack of humanity. How can you look at someone with two eyes, two hands, 10 fingernails, a heart, a brain, a liver, a VAGINA just like you and feel justified with your opinions and violence? It’s evil. Calling me girrrrllll is evil. Talking about good hair and #teamdark/lightskin is evil. Wearing cornrows is a form of lesser evil although I really don’t give a shit I just think you look bald.
All of this small internet influenced terminology has an enormous history behind it full of painful, soul destorying emotions that are still affecting people of color every day. You are still affecting people of color every day. Why should I have to fight to feel good about myself because of crusty ancient mindsets that you are helping to perpetuate every day. Why should I be sweating around police and praying hard every day for the life of my brother? Why should any black moms have to accept that they can’t actually protect their children no matter how hard they try? This is what being woke is about. Constant anxiety. Modern day Garden of Eden I-feel-naked-vibes, never being able to just exist or forget you’re black because white people that you are forced to interact with and are supposed to trust will NOT let you. How are you supposed to love your white friends with that knowledge and their jabs? You just end up doing so much discretionary separation and compartmentalizing just to go through daily interactions that you begin to wonder if it’s worth it. It’s rough, it’s depressing, and of course it’s not fair. However, I can’t and would not trade it because it’s necessary for change.
