being black in america.

I saw this picture this morning, and it made me so sad. 

Being black is both a joy and exhausting. 

I love how fun we are as a people. Black people will hype you like nobody’s business. 

I love watching black people get ahead in business.  

I love #BlackBoyJoy and #BlackGirlMagic.

But being black is also exhausting. 

It is constantly processing your everyday life and emotions +  trying to consciously live in a way that doesn’t threaten or scare others.

No one had to teach me that I was a minority. I’ve always picked up on it. 

When I was 8, we transferred to an all-white school, and that was the first time I realized that I was painfully black. 

What were boundaries to me was considered “mean” to others. 

Elementary school taught me to hold my black and mold to fit in. 

Middle school taught me that “acting black” was synonymous with “ghetto.”

High school taught me that people could be ignorant in racism (wearing Confederate belt buckles, flying Confederate flags on their cars, saying the n-word with an “a” at the end because “it’s not racist if it has an ‘a”) and that it was acceptable because tired school systems had useless coaches who were too busy giving extra credit for fixing VCRs, and not enough time teaching the ugly history of that flag. In all of this, somehow black students were confused and hurt that administration would allow people to wear Conferedate tees. (Can we talk about gaslighting?)

College taught me that you could be BLATANTLY racist, hanging nooses from the balconies of fraternity houses, and the repercussions were rarely expulsion. 

Church taught me that when I stepped into a room, I was somehow the representative of all black people. It taught me that you can do life with friends, invite them into your circle, and find out that just because people love Jesus doesn’t mean that they aren’t racist. It taught me that speaking up to leaders in a respectful and courteous manner labels me as the stereotypical black woman who is “disrespectful with a bad attitude.”

America has taught me that somehow my experiences of being black are equivalent to being “ungrateful & unpatriotic.”

So, life has taught me that being black means not being defended. 

Listen, I LOVE the Holy Spirit, and I’ve had to work through a LOT of that with Him. But there is a gross misconception that just because minorities love God that we have to somehow spiritually bypass all of the anger we feel on the inside about what’s happening in the world today. 

I have been in the car with my brother, pulled over, and asked to step out without a reason (& if you know me, you know we did not step out).

I have a sweet friend who has been wrongfully accused of having drugs in her car.

I am aware that I must smile extra hard to seem friendly when I am in a setting where no one looks like me. 

Can I be honest with my sweet white friends?

We know that it’s not all whites. We know that it’s not all cops. 

But we also know that all it takes is one. 

So, talk to your minority friends. Ask questions about things you don’t understand. Don’t assume that they’re being “dramatic” or “sensitive.”

Just because I desire to see black people get ahead doesn’t mean that I don’t want to see people of other races do the same. I want it all. 

Just because I think police brutality is wrong doesn’t mean that I hate all cops. 

Just because I disagree with some politician doesn’t mean that I’m unpatriotic. 

& just because #BLACKLIVESMATTER doesn’t mean that all others don’t.

I am just painfully aware that just because I love Jesus, just because I went to Alabama, and just because I graduated from ministry school, doesn’t mean that I can’t still be wrongfully killed because I’m a black woman. I’ve never been pulled over and asked what church I attended or where I serve on Sundays. 

White leaders (& this is JUST this black girl, NOT ALL BLACK PEOPLE), I don’t care about your round table talks with your other black pastor friends. In my opinion, this is the church’s way of saying, “I can’t be racist. I have black friends.”

You may get some pushback, but speak up. 

Sometimes avoiding conflict isn’t worth the hurt that your church members feel when issues aren’t addressed.