Hi Racism, Meet Racial Trauma.

Racism is a fabric of our society that inflicts violence upon the soon to be non-white majority. Thanks to the dark history of slavery, toxic social conditioning and Christianity are used to keep the construct, division, and systemic imbalances of race in tact. As a result, unconscious bias and complicit silence leave generational wounds that cut way too deep.

Racial trauma occurs at every stage of life, and even though it may seem invisible, it’s an avalanche of pain that rarely gets dealt with. Without ample access to resources and support, many go on to repeat generational cycles and patterns born of these initial, ancestral wounds. Although the world likes to believe it’s now entered post-racial status, racism still rears its ugly head in ways that most like to conveniently ignore or reverse and deny.

The internet is forever changing how society sweeps its wrongdoings under the rug though. Thanks to social media, Black people are sharing their stories and leaving no room for our injustices to be left unrepaired. Some only know of black issues due to Black Twitter. Others only learn of our frustrations through prominent figures in society lighting the match that is black outrage so they can turn a profit.

At the center of that outrage are Black womxn, trans women, and female-presenting people. Long disrespected throughout history, we are doing everything necessary to heal and expose the truth of our experiences; we are doing everything necessary to share stories of our strength. From childhood to the office, we’re taking up activist roles and building communities online to speak up about racism, and the trauma left in its wake. Falling in line with figure heads in my community, here’s a rundown of how white supremacy tries to stomp out the light of Black people and womxn:

Racism in Childhood

Race, racism, and white supremacy attempts to stain Black people at birth. On the onset, Black children are denied the chance to be children. At a young age, they are stripped of all innocence and become burdened with the truth of racism, its long-term impacts, and generational wounds.

Black children grow up understanding the judgment and disadvantages facing them. They learn they aren’t allowed to be their authentic and beautiful black selves, speaking freely and finding validity in their blackness or their bodies. They begin to read in between the lines—i.e., decoding micro-aggressions, invalidating their own feelings, and falling victim to anti-black media and social norms. Some have to learn way too early in life about the probability of being mistreated, apprehended, and even put in harms way by the very people set out to protect them.

Black children are hyper-sexualized and viewed as older than they are. And if they don’t haphazardly learn it themselves, it’s ingrained into their heads there are two justice systems: one for them and one for us. Speaking from experience, waking up to systematic racism at an early age is more than overwhelming—it’s traumatic.

Racism in Relationships & Adulthood

When anti-blackness is left unchecked, low self-esteem and self-hate run rampant. More often than not, the anti-blackness seen in the world gets reflected and internalized, leading adolescents to have and express a disgust or judgment for the self as well as their community at large (even if subconsciously). The continued lack of representation echoes back to Black adolescents that they are not considered, desirable, worthy, or to be seen. This hinders their ability to have or form healthy relationships, and without proper tools or role models, young Black hearts become extremely vulnerable to isolating, unsafe, toxic and one-sided relationships due to illusions of unworthiness.

Outside of sexual coercion and fetishization, racial discrimination in relationships gets in the way of healthy, empathetic, and authentic partnership. If it’s not the pressure to not become someone’s baby mama (and be criticized for it), then Black female-presenting people are constantly faced with the fear of being ridiculed and intentionally misunderstood in relationships. It’s a different kind of loneliness and lack of support that extends to friendships in adulthood, too.

Misogynoir is a consistent threat that leaves Black womxn questioning if emotional security and social safety will ever come. Just look to mainstream media for a crash course on that. Knowing that you are always the butt of the joke is a tough pill to swallow in a world that already denotes you are not enough, or that you are asking for too much out of a friend, relationship, or partner. It’s a very confusing and gut-wrenching process whether coming of age or entering that “grown people sh*t” era of life.

As bills cascade and the world hurries by, there’s barely any time to dissect how infuriating of a realization it is for one to come to. That realization being that your ideas, feelings, needs, your pain, your peace and presence don’t matter to some or most. The journey of a Black womxn seems to always be one that’s dismissed, ignored, discredited, and discouraged. Every day, Black womxn are put in the position to choose between their survival or their health and mental health, especially in the workplace.

Racism in the Workplace

If lacking allies in adulthood isn’t enough, hair discrimination and misogynoir in the workplace adds to our lived trauma as well. Black womxn are expected to work harder for even less than their minority counterparts; they are expected to stay humble without a glimpse of pride, hide their hair, and be the backbone of society without ever needing an ounce of support.

They’re often told they need to acquire more qualifications and education to be considered for mediocre roles; therefore, leaving them sacked with the highest debt averages across the nation. It’s a cruelty that highlights all too well how gender pay disparities are disproportionately skewed in favor of upholding white supremacy.

Employers go out of their way to overlook Black womxn for promotions, and coworkers often try running their grubby fingers through Black womxns’ hair (with or without consent). Both weaponize their privilege and power to deny Black womxn all of their boundaries, whether bodily or emotionally, which are put in place as a response to social violence. This especially happens in White, male-dominated spaces. That age old adage of women supporting women doesn’t do much of anything either with more White women stepping into positions of power. These normalized grievances of (more often than not) being the “only” in a space makes the stress of corporate America far less worth it for Black womxn all over the world.

Being regularly denied a seat at the table makes for a stress like no other—i.e., having to suffer in silence, with a general lack of support, and having to accept gross negligence and abuse to make the next month’s rent. It’s a challenge just for black womxn to breathe easy as they often aren’t met with grace, well-meaning support, nor are they afforded the chance to pause, heal and recover.

The Task of Healing

It’s unfortunate that for Black womxn who defy the odds, the society that does nothing to protect them decides over and over again that they must be “humbled.” Plenty of people walk this world with a number of struggles, but I’ll bet some are at peace knowing they aren’t as low on the totem pole as Black womxn and disabled Black womxn.

Being stripped of all your humanity and dignity is enough to make anyone cold and angry. It’s enough to make anyone want to shrink and walk the rest of their days on this earth unseen. In a society that already considers Black womxn invisible, it sadly wouldn’t be that hard.

In recent years, diversity and inclusivity have started to take ahold of the mental health space. I can’t tell you how many times I have been turned off from therapy because there never seemed to be enough Black therapists available. It’s an additional barrier to receiving help, outside of funding and stigma. Organizations like The Loveland Foundation and The Boris Lawrence Henson Foundation are ensuring that Black womxn and girls receive the support they need, however. Day by day, they’re working to combat mental health stigmas in the Black community.

As online forums, communities and sisterhoods continue to grow, Black womxn are shamelessly reclaiming their humanity and keeping their foots on the neck of society. We are refusing to shrink ourselves, or tolerate and accept disrespect. We’re (collectively) saying, “Give us our flowers, now. Say our names. Protect us. Do right by us. Consider us, too, and leave us alone to excel in our peace.”

My Healing Journey

Reclaiming myself was a lonely and grueling journey of self-care and self-discovery. I did the hard work to unlearn toxic social conditioning and anti-blackness, and I still am to this day. After leaving a toxic workplace, I opted for therapy and slowed my life all the way down. It took five years and giving up that which I love most to restore my peace and sense of safety. I thought I might come back on the scene eventually, but I had no idea it would take that long to regain wholeness.

In my healing, I became absolutely obsessed with not wanting to be seen so my presence and racialized experience would stop plaguing me. In my mind, not being seen meant no more pain or judgment; in my mind, it meant people finally hearing me. After three years away, I tried adopting an anonymous and faceless persona to continue my work (hello four or five Instagram names), but I realized hiding wasn’t doing me any favors. Not only did it introduce a whole new set of anxieties, pressures and set backs, but it also played into the hands of white supremacy.

See, an anti-black world doesn’t want to see Black people in it or speaking up, let alone does it want to see them thriving in it. Ultimately, not wanting to shrink myself any longer or play into the hands of white supremacy is what led me to relaunch this old uni-blog and finally start a YouTube channel. It’s why I started my egoless business to help with the healing and self-reclamation process; therefore, truly setting out to blaze my own trail. I reached a point so low in the world’s rejection (and my depression) that I finally said: F*ck it! I'll build my own d*mn table and be my authentic self. I’ll give myself permission to pause and protect my peace at all costs! Not giving a da*n who likes it or not and checking anyone who doesn’t come correct, of course.

Helping other people, other Black womxn, do the same — daring to be embodied in their humanity, that is — is all I could ever want and hope for. That’s why I’m sharing my story today (linked above) without guilt, shame, apologies, or regret. It doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of how harmful or rampant internalized anti-blackness is within black families (like my own), but I hope it inspires you to speak up, to never give up (or in), and to reclaim your personal power. So, I hope you join me in spreading the word. Our individual journeys may vary, but this is what it’s really like to be black in America. It’s draining. It’s exhausting. It’s a complete and total mind f*ck.