A few nights ago, my best friend’s mother and I struck up a conversation about police brutality and social injustice as a whole.
While we agreed on some ideals such as the measures that need to be taken to improve our local black communities, we disagreed on others such as the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement. Despite our disagreements, I was still able to realize something truly powerful: I carry the burden of my color.
When explaining why I advocate the BLM movement to my friend’s mom, as she does not feel connected to the movement, I told her that I felt my skin color was the first thing people noticed about me when I walked into a room. That before I could open my mouth and speak, preconceived notions were formed about me. I almost cried at the thought of someone judging me before they even get to know me, but then my friend’s mother said something so profound, “I don’t worry about that, because I know the words coming out of my mouth and the ideas in my head will overshadow the color of my skin, and once I leave that room, they will respect me.”
This resonated with me. I am always encouraging self-love and self-worth within the black community, and quite frankly, I am proud of the melanin in my skin and the nappy-ness of my hair. But I would be lying if I said I didn't feel the need to be a little more polite when I was on the nicer side of town or in the presence of a non-POC. I am guilty of toning down my “blackness” for others. I refrain from using slang in efforts not to seem “extra.”
I know that I am not a stereotype simply because I wear my hair in an afro and I listen to Drake.
I believe that we as the black community are not restricted and limited by the stereotypes forced upon us by our culture; however, I would be lying if I told you I didn’t change minor aspects of my personality solely to be accepted by the white community.
Because of this, I am making a public pledge today to change the way I think. The next time I catch myself altering my genuine personality simply to please others, I will remind myself of my best friend’s mother’s words. Do not let others decide who you are. Others have the choice to accept you or discredit you after you leave the room, but at the end of the day, if someone can’t see how fearfully and wonderfully made you are, then that’s their problem.
You just continue to be black, beautiful, and unbothered.
