I Used to Write

I used to write

I used to write dope shit

I used to write deeply twisted metaphors that spoke to one’s soul and made the hairs on the back of knuckles stand tall and sway in the twilight air

I used to write my feelings…. mostly the bad ones, the ones that had to get out, the ones that once released left my heart unburdened until the next flood of emotions

I used to write about life and glory and hopes and dreams and men

I used to tell stories in my writings and bring folks along on a journey that took them out of their own lives for just a few moments while sharing pieces of my soul with every word, sentence, punctuation point

I used to write when I couldn’t sleep and when my brain was overloaded and when the voices inside and out got too loud to even hear what I was thinking

I used to put my pen to paper and watch the ink flow without any prior knowledge of how the markings would connect until I got to what felt like an ending and then still write some more

I used to write so that I could show others what I wrote and watch them as they read and listen anxiously for their thoughts and opinions that I cared so greatly about

I used to write because I was told I was good at it

I used to write because I couldn’t imagine doing anything else

I used to write……

 

But now I just sit here

Warning: This Will Offend You! Contains Feminist Material.

I don’t know how to describe in words the thoughts in my head and feelings that run through my body on a daily basis to wake up in the world being a woman. It’s not easily encapsulated into a phrase to capture the multifaceted fragments that make up my whole. While my blackness presents a series of masks to a white majority society that places it on the outskirts never fully letting it in, my womanhood is a disjointed puzzle set with pieces jammed together to match up to the smoothly perfect copy of the picture on the cover. Even when complete there’s always an element of never being fully equal no matter how perfectly put together and presented.

Waking up to the awareness every morning that sexist jokes, hetero-normative behavior, or “locker room” conversation is considered the standard in our society. Yet my defense against any affront to the female gender or plea for equality is met with claims of emotional sensitivity, opinionated concern, or over-arching political correctness. It’s “not that serious or personal” after all. Except I am personally a woman and so I tried writing this sentence five different ways just now to really explain how exactly it bothers me even if not directed towards me but I can’t.

I can’t put into words the grating sound it makes inside my soul to hear men make references to women in ways or phrases or terms that lowers us to less than humanistic and second-class beings. To be reminded that in this world we are powerless and voiceless and even other women perpetuate the stereotypes and degradation that keeps us in these roles. To live in a society that claims we do the same thing to men as well yet know we don’t…. they know there are far more insulting words to call a woman than there are for men and that most of the phrases used to demean a man are terms for a woman or female body part. A country where when certain crimes are committed against women we question the victim as much as we question the perpetrator to make sure it really happened, which isn’t usually done for other crimes. I just can’t…. Even.

I was once told I’m “kind of a misandrist”. I don’t like to half-ass anything, always like to give my full ass at everything I do. Why just be “kind of”. During my man-hating period I wrote a poem for all men titled Fuck You. It was declared a masterpiece… by myself. Performed it during an open mic night to a standing ovation, from only the women in the audience, although two different men approached me afterwards with the offer that they could change my thoughts and feelings towards their gender. I politely declined.

Of course through self-evaluation I realized it wasn’t that I hated men really. That period was borne from perpetual disappointment and unrequited dreams. As well as experiencing the stories of other women as they shared and recognizing how societal expectations had indoctrinated not only women but also men into gender roles that played out into certain stereotypical behaviors. I don’t necessarily wake up strong and chanting and vagina power every morning. And I have no disdain for all gender roles as long as there is consent and clear communication among individuals involved. I give credit to being raised in a matriarchal family and to having my early teenage developmental years being inculcated through the leadership of Catholic nuns at an all-girls school, which taught us superiority in every aspect of education be it academics or extra-curricular or anything we damn well choose to do as women.

I’ve been assaulted. I’ve been spoken about in a derogatory manner as a female. I’ve had men harass me online because I didn’t respond in the manner that they wanted me to. Sorry I didn’t like your picture on OkCupid sir even though you liked mine, I guess that gave you the right to call me “a fat bitch who deserves to be single and not get a nice guy” like you claimed to be. I’ve been yelled at on the street, scared to walk alone, called a friend while walking alone at night, held keys in my hands to use as weapons, been warned about a serial rapist on the loose, told not wear certain clothes because I might get attacked and had to change, touched inappropriately in the club and grabbed at and dragged, had someone put something in my drink at a party. I’ve had lies spread about me regarding sexual behavior because I refused dates with a person. I’ve had a male who was less qualified than I was get the job we both interviewed for. I’ve been emotionally abused by an ex. I’ve been completely disregarded in business meetings or called “little lady” until someone had to actively point out that I was the corporate trainer/court expert/Master’s level clinician. I’ve had to choose between which side of me takes significance at certain times, should I support my Black cause or feminist cause because sometimes there’s a conflict of interest. I’ve been physically afraid of an overpowering male figure yet challenged him anyways… I shouldn’t have in retrospect for safety reasons but I was in the midst of opposing his referring to the group of us as “bloodclaat bitches” and etc. I’ve been told to smile. All the fucking time.

What makes me more or less of a woman to be respected.
The curl of my hair
The curve of my rear
The seasonings in the food I prepare
The swing of these hips
The plush of my lips
The arch in my back as I pin clothes on the line  outside old island style

My miseducation and self-actualization has come through growth and learning. Imagine my naivete to think if other people are also aware of the privilege vs disadvantages society perpetuates they’ll gain some perspective. Apparently I still hold on to dreams. I promise though, I’m not just the angry black female the world forever wants to make me out to be. 

Selfishness of Grief

I read my first eulogy at a funeral at the age of six up on the podium of a Pentecostal Church while echoes of wailing resonated off the walls and glass stained windows. I understood then what death meant. My great-grandmother was never coming back and my family was filled with  pain. She was old and had passed quickly in her own bed while relatives moved in and out of rooms knowing what was to come yet fearing it nonetheless. Since the age of six, I have lost at least 1-3 family members/family friends to death each and every year yet the acceptance stage of grief never rolls in smoother or with more ease of anticipation.

Grieving is a selfish act in my estimation and one that does not bear any need for an apology. Whether it is over the loss of a fellow 12 year old classmate during childhood years when you now are faced with the realization that the young can also die, or a sudden, unexpected robbing of a life which you only learn about as you scroll through your social media account during your regular check-ins, or it’s stage-4, incurable, just hanging on and enduring the radiation treatments for the sake of prolonging her time that she’ll have to spend with each of us family members so that we’ll have memories until she’s finally at a place of  serenity within her own self. The grieving process is not so much about the loss of the life of the person but the loss of what that life means to you, the ones left behind. How that impacts your own continuation of circumstances and the choices you made.

It brings up considerations of changes you would have made in behaviors or how you treated the person or things you should have said but probably never did. Fears of mortality are ever present because losing someone who is so much a part of us also reminds us that we aren’t invincible. Just like they are taken from us, one day we will no longer be here as well. It makes us realize that we no longer have the reliance to be dependent on this individual for the immediacy of their affection as we could before. And all the times we took that for granted will haunt us, the missed calls, the texts we never responded to, the times we could have shared together but put off for later.

The selfishness of grief is not a negative, as people always determine selfish as something we should strive not to be. However, what it says to us is to not take moments lightly and to share with those we care about. Let not the grieving hour be the only moment when our affections are expressed but let the echoes resonate from our hearts. Losing things that are precious to us hurts. Never being able to see, hold, speak to the ones we care about ever again is heart wrenching.

Death has always been a constant in my life, like taxes I can’t escape it. But it has never gotten easier to deal with. It happens as surely as the moon will change and the sun will rise. Even as a therapist and studying the stages of grief and the processing cycles to understand the clinical scope, dealing with it personally affects me completely differently. Selfishly in my grief, I just want the chance to make everything alright again.

We Shall Overcome…. Someday

​”One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself in exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize an shameful condition.

In a sense we’ve come to our nation’s Capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir.

This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check; a check which has come back marked “insufficient funds.”  – I Have a Dream Speech

Wake up to a new day and read the news. Stroll through social media. Listen to the radio. Another black man murdered. Watch the video, then watch another from an entirely different angle while listening to the commentary. Hands were up and contrary to the words written in police report, orders were indeed being followed. Yet bullets reached body before taster did and “shots fired” rang out.

Being Black is enough to be a threat. Enough. If all lives do matter then shouldn’t the moral outrage be just a livid for this life as any and not just as a combative statement? A psychotic, possibly drug induced man who ate the face off two individuals in their home was apprehended without deadly force. Recent suspect of deadly NYC bombing who used weapons of mass destruction was apprehended. Single, unarmed man with broken down truck and hands in the air surrounded by multiple officers as well as helicopter surveillance described as a “big bad guy” shot dead. Because to be Black is enough.  

Further along in the speech above the great dreamer declared, “There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, “When will you be satisfied?” We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality.” It has only been 53 years since this speech. It took 100 years after the emancipation of slavery to end segregation. By that calculation, since being granted civil rights in these United States and recognition as citizens, we’re only really at the halfway point of actual change. There’s more work to do. We ain’t done yet. No matter how tired or endangered we are. 

Unmasked

I recently read an article that questioned how well do we really know our loved ones. It spoke about how in so many cases it isn’t until after those close to us have passed away that we wish we had asked certain questions. The article challenged to have more open communication with family members, parents in particular, while we still had the opportunity rather than living with regrets and what ifs later on. 

Of course this gave me pause, for as close as I am to both my parents I was in fact challenged by the prospect that there was always more to learn about a person. So I sent them a personality questionnaire to complete and of course being my parents they dared me to complete my own as well.

Here is the basic Proust Questionnaire.

1.What is your idea of perfect happiness?

Making sure my loved ones are all safe, secure, taken care of, and happy with their lives and where they want to be.

2.What is your greatest fear?

Failing to meet the standards and goals I’ve set for myself. Disappointing my parents. Frogs and toads.

3.What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?

Procrastinatio/Control Issues/Anxiety

4.What is the trait you most deplore in others?

Lying/Bigotry

5.Which living person do you most admire?

My mother 

6.What is your greatest extravagance?

My car and my dog

7.What is your current state of mind?

Anxious about not stressing too much. Trying to attain peace.

8.What do you consider the most overrated virtue?

Humility and righteousness. 

9.On what occasion do you lie?

I may omit information that’s not necessary if it will negatively impact someone’s feelings but try not to lie.

10.What do you most dislike about your appearance?

My weight and my discomfort with my body.

11.Which living person do you most despise?

Ignorant people who don’t want to move past their ignorance. 

12.What is the quality you most like in a man?

Ambition and honesty and money.

13.What is the quality you most like in a woman?

Strength and drive and nice shoes. 

14.Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

Beyoncé lyrics.

15.What or who is the greatest love of your life?

Anika.

16.When and where were you happiest?

Playing make believe with Anika no matter where it was and at what age.

17.Which talent would you most like to have?

Confidence. 

18.If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

Social phobia. 

19.What do you consider your greatest achievement?

Performing on stage, directing plays, organizing poetry events. Getting my degrees. Paying my own bills like an adult. 

20.If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be?

A sentient being.

21.Where would you most like to live?

In a home with the person I love that we can afford. Near a beach… always close to a beach, even if I hardly ever go.

22.What is your most treasured possession? 

Books. My dog. My heart.

23.What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

Poverty.

24.What is your favorite occupation?

Freedom. 

25.What is your most marked characteristic?

Creative. My smile. I care.

26.What do you most value in your friends?

Understanding and love.

27.Who are your favorite writers?

My parents.

28.Who is your hero of fiction?

Horton from Dr. Seuss

29.Which historical figure do you most identify with?

Ntozake Shange. Writers and poets of the Harlem Renaissance. 

30.Who are your heroes in real life?

The women on both sides of my family. 

31.What are your favorite names?

Aisha and Anika.

32.What is it that you most dislike?

Unnecessary shit. Petty arguments. Wasting my time.

33.What is your greatest regret?

Giving in too easily. Holding on too long.

34.How would you like to die?

With dignity. Remembered for doing good things for people. With hope for the best thereafter.

35.What is your motto?

I need a nap. 

Racial Trauma when Lives Should Matter

​In 1948 the United Nations adopted and proclaimed the Universal Declaration of Human Rights which guaranteed all people and all nations with certain inalienable rights. Article One, which is titled the Right to Equality, declares, “All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act toward one another in a spirit of brotherhood.”For any person who has chosen to embark on a career in the social services field, this right does not only hold true for the work that we do but we are also some of the first responders to the issues triggering social change in our community and personal growth in our clients.

Chrysalis Health’s client­ centered approach has proven to me over the years that we commit to working with the individuals we service and we are continuously evolving to meet the needs of the community. Leaps and bounds ahead of other service providers, Chrysalis aims to make sure we remain trauma­ focused in our approach to treatment. In the current climate of our society at this time, it is important that as treatment providers we recognize the impact of the societal trauma on the mental health needs of our community, some of whom are individuals we serve as clients, staff we employ, as well as colleagues in the field who we collaborate with for services.

Boston College’s Institution for the Study and Promotion of Race and Culture Advisory Board released a research study they completed on the significant impact of racial trauma on the mental health needs of many people of color, especially in light of the societal events that have taken place across the country. This study highlighted factors that I thought were pertinent to the population our agency primarily deals with and raises the issues of difficulties in addressing these events. According to Boston College’s ISPRC Advisory Board, “Racial trauma is one term used to describe the physical and psychological symptoms that people of Color often experience after being exposed to stressful experiences of racism. Similar to survivors of other types of trauma (e.g., sexual assault survivors), people of Color often experience fear and hypervigilance, headaches, insomnia, body aches, memory difficulty, self­ blame, confusion, shame, and guilt after experiencing racism. Moreover, when people of Color experience racism more frequently, their symptoms tend to intensify. And, these racism experiences never exist in isolation; racial trauma is a cumulative experience, where every personal or vicarious encounter with racism contributes to a more insidious, chronic stress. When people of Color experience racism, it brings to mind both their own previous experiences with racism, as well as their awareness of the longstanding history of racism directed toward similar others in the US.” (Jernigan, 2015)

While cultural competency is an essential training that clinicians not only take as a course throughout their academic career but also a training requirement for continued employment, discussing racially traumatizing events can sometimes feel like a charged and emotional activity. Due to events that have led to the brutalization and prejudicial targeting of victims, members of law enforcement have found themselves being judged overall by the actions of those who have abused their positions of authority. Unfortunately this has even led to two separate occasions of lone vigilantes attacking officers of the law on their own accord despite activism groups calling for peace and social change. One of the most essential things in addressing trauma is the ability to listen with an open mind to the perspective of the individual who has been affected and how the issue impacts their daily living, their fears, social stressors, and the experiences within their environment.

Boston College’s ISPRC Advisory Board also issued alongside their study a Wellness Toolbox and Recovery Plan to address ways in which treatment providers can assist in coping with the systematic stressors and traumatic events as they arise and continue to impact the lives of individuals. One of the most important thing is that we are trained to identify, assess, and provide necessary care as much as we are able to for crisis situations. Yet how are we addressing this social crisis that is affecting demographic groups across our country and in what ways are we meeting the needs of not only clients whose mental health are being affected but the individuals working in our very agency who also have to interact with these clients as well. Broward Sheriff’s Office as well as a number of local police departments have taken necessary steps to implement Crisis Intervention Training with their law enforcement officers to be trained for a minimum of 40 hours in de­escalation tactics and psychoeducation when dealing with individuals with mental health and substance use issues, as well as cultural and diversity components.

In addition to that, the focus on victims of crisis in the face of social and racial trauma is an attempt to bring attention to the continued actions that goes against the Declaration of Equality. Picture this, you’re on your way to work in the morning with a day fully scheduled with appointments, meeting with your supervisor, training that is already past due. Your car starts overheating in rush hour traffic but somehow you manage to get it to the side of the road. You call AAA, your insurance company, whoever and you’re placed on hold listening to elevator music not able to talk to an actual human being. Minutes turn into an hour until finally you get a person on the line who offers to help and you explain, “I’m in a crisis. I’m in need. My car matters!” And the representative responds to you, “Well all cars matter!”

Or picture this, your house is on fire and the firefighters arrive on the scene. They attach the hoses and start spraying…. Every house on the block. You shout at them, “What are you doing? My house is the one on fire.  I’m in crisis. My house matters!” They look at you and respond, “Well of course but all houses matter.”

Better yet, you’re working with a client who is in the midst of a crisis and needs further individual care. You alert the school faculty and say to them, “My client needs help. My client matters.” The staff answers, “We think all students matter.” The focus on those in crisis is not a denial of equality for all others.  By organizing a Pink Ribbon event and raising donations for breast cancer, the organizer is not saying that it is the most important cancer and the others do not matter but that this is just the main focus of their event at the moment for a certain reason. And so by declaring that certain lives are in crisis due to the high rates of brutalization and deaths, it is only to bring attention to the high rates of systematic and institutionalized trauma that has resulted in these violent attacks and for us to realize how it impacts not only our daily living but also overall mental health.

Racial and Social Trauma

References

Jernigan, M. M., Green, C. E., Perez­Gualdron, Liu, M. M, Henze, K. T., Chen, C….Helms, J. E. (2015). #racialtraumaisreal. Institute for the Study and Promotion of Race and Culture, Chestnut Hill, MA. Retrieved from /schools/lsoe/isprc/manuscript415.html

UN-PTSD 

The trauma of being Black is not Post Stress

Since it happens daily, weekly, in untold moments

As I open my eyes and the sun’s rays alight upon

The melanin that coats my skin

As I glimpse visions of myself in mirrors and reflective surfaces 

Whenever the eyes of a stranger meets mine

And skitters away in judgement, fear, guilt, misunderstanding, resentment 

The trauma of my blackness lingers

Like curry stains on pots that won’t soak off

Berry stains on fingers

Blood stains on pavements 

On clothing 

On car seats 

On hearts

It stains souls and communities 

And a whole race of people 

The same way scars from whips still mark our backs

Invisible to those who have never felt the history of our stories

Cries gone unheard 

The trauma of being Black

Is a legacy of a race

That lingers on my skin

Mind

And soul

#Lennon

Celebrate Small Hopes

I have such a hard time taking off the jaded cynicism that taints my lenses that were once rose colored and bright eyed. Yet every once in a small while something surprising happens. Something that grants me tiny hope in humanity.  Hope that we don’t just live in self absorbed bubbles that take for granted that everything surrounds us in an orbit of glory that centers around our personal needs and sense of ideals. Faith that we can look beyond our strong held opinions and understand the emotional context in which others are operating in order to get through this system we call life. Wonder that we may just be able to feel an inkling of innate empathetic nature towards another sentient being.

And when I find myself in this predicament of positive thinking, I can only celebrate the fact that I am able to be hopeful for humanity.

Fifteen Minute Recess

During elementary school, I looked forward to certain periods of the day, reading sessions, physical education (I kid… I didn’t look forward to P.E.), art, and recess.  Recess of course was the most important one.  The anticipation of having fifteen minutes dedicated to carefree endeavors kept me going for most of the school morning.  It was a well-deserved break from multiplication tables and long division.  Whether it was spent climbingto the top of the jungle gym and declaring my group of friends the rulers of the playground or sitting to the side giggling over the boys on the other side of the school yard, that fifteen minute recess was enough to rejuvenate my brain and prepare me for the onslaught of lessons until the lunch break (another favorite of mine… the early developments of a foodie).

It was a necessity during those childhood years to have this break. So why then as adults, with so much more responsibilities and worries than we had then, do we neglect taking a fifteen minute recess during our days? It’s important for us to keep our minds fresh and active throughout the work day so that we are performing to the best of our abilities.  We need to take a fifteen minute recess in the middle of all the hustle and bustle of work life, school work, kids, and everything else we might have going on.

Just a short break by ourselves without focusing on all that we have yet to complete.  Make the time for yourself, whether it’s midmorning as you are swimming through the sea of paperwork you’re attending to or in the afternoon when lunch has you feeling lethargic and constantly checking to see how much closer to five o’clock it is. Just try the steps below and see how effective it is in helping to rid yourself of internal pressure:

  • Find a quiet place, close your office or bedroom door, or take a trip outside (anywhere that you know will have minimal interruptions from others)
  • Sit by yourself, put the phone (and all other forms of electronics) aside, and try to clear your mind.
  • Just be… it’s hard for many of us to do that, especially with the racing thoughts and all we have to focus on, but just for a moment allow yourself to just be.
  • Take the entire fifteen minutes, set an alarm so you know when it is up but allow yourself to have that mental break.
  • An alternative method for your fifteen minutes of break time for those who need more social interaction to give themselves that inner boost is taking that time to walk around the office or even outside, pop in for quick chats with colleagues if possible (who aren’t too busy that is), stretch your legs and give yourself a break from the desk, NO WORK TALK.

Whether you fill the time with breathing activities to help calm your tension or meditation techniques to help relax, or a chance to get your blood flowing in your limbs once again, just give yourself those moments to free your mind and calm your soul. It’s surprising how much energy I feel after a mere fifteen minutes that somehow I’m once again ready to take on the stress and busy work.  Try it out for a week and see how it feels.  I look forward to my daily recess with elementary school like glee. Only thing better are naps!