Black womxn are at the crossroads of all social issues; poverty, racism, sexism, homelessness, homophobia, reproductive rights, and classism are only a few examples. The experiences and stories of Black womxn are unacknowledged and erased, yet, they are expected to bear the emotional and physical labor of pushing these movements forward.
Raise your hand if you do not like getting your picture taken ? If you raised your hand either physically or mentally, I am right there with you.
Don’t spend too much time behind or away from the camera that you forget to include yourself.
Have you ever used daily reminders? Little things to tell yourself to keep going about your day. Sometimes these phrases can be a machete that chops through the thick brambles of negativity; other times, they just kind of swim around in your head. Here are a few you can incorporate.
When I disappear, it’s not because I no longer wish to write. A scary, familiar feeling makes its way back into my mind; the first sign of its existence is when the writing stops. These words are a reminder to keep trying.
I have a lot of bad habits that I should have dropped years ago and hope to leave behind in 2019. I have convinced myself that they’re harmless, but these sorts of things build up year after year. I can’t promise I will replace them with something dynamic, but I can be a little easier on myself, which might be good enough for right now.
Our parents try to mold us into their image and society tries to ensure we stay in line. The framework you are born into is supposed to fit like a glove, but it doesn’t always. It doesn’t make sense but buried deep inside yourself is a truth that’s longing to break free and you can’t explain why.
This is how I feel about most aspects of my life, but today we’re going to focus on gender.
Do you have trouble facing the mirror? My self-esteem and I haven’t always seen eye-to-eye. Sometimes, we’re in sync. I’ll high-five the mirror or give myself a well-deserved wink. Other days, I am sitting on the floor sulking about how hideous I look and how I never want to go outside again.
I hate to say it, but I am a party pooper. Not for your parties, my own. Social anxiety affects many facets of my life; it does not take a break on my birthday.
“I appreciate you, my love. I appreciate that you allow your texts to go unanswered for weeks at a time. I appreciate you giving me space when I feel the walls are closing in on me. I appreciate you forcing your way into my mind when I have been quiet for too long. And I appreciate your reassuring hand when my thoughts tell me to push you away and my actions carry out this order accordingly.”
I am a tragic creative. No, not distressed or sorrowful. I mean tragic in the way that mid-2000’s teens insult you. I am sure you are too; trying to balance creative endeavors, taking care of your physical and mental health, and probably working a full-time job you don’t love.