Writing Chronicles: To all the Characters You never meet

Do you like that imperfect reference to To All The Boys I loved before? No? Well, I thought it was clever.

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This latest writing chronicles is to those characters dreamed up by writers but who readers never meet. Specifically, I am referring to the characters who cast a long shadow over events and your hero. In my present story, there are two such characters: my protagonist’s former love and her mother.

While my story may be supernatural, these characters are most certainly dead and will remain so. In general, I’m not a fan of bringing a character back from the dead. It cheapens death and the emotions it conjures up. That being said, I’m not above flirting with it.

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But, as I began to tackle this story in earnest, I decided to begin with character sketches. For context, I haphazardly organize and outline stories. Depending on the story idea, I oscillate between meticulous attention to detail to flying by the seat of my pants.

For this story, I’m hovering between the two.

Some characters, like my protagonist and supporting characters, were easy to sketch out. Where were they born? Who are their parents? Their history? Family dynamics. Notes about how and when they met the protagonist. And, even what happens to them after the story ends.

It quickly became clear that I also needed to write up those two “off-screen characters.” They are the linchpin by which my protagonist pivots. How can she heal? How does she fill in the gaps of her identity when these key people are missing from it?

Sketching out these character histories wasn’t easy.  It was emotionally fraught, too. When I finished one of the character sketches, I won’t say which, I felt such a profound melancholy that I hadn’t expected. As a result, it gave a greater depth to my protagonist.

Consider writing up the character your reader will never meet. I think you’ll find it changes your perspective toward your on-screen characters and your overall story.



One Black Woman's Travel Notes and the Art of Taking Up Space

“I can’t believe you travel by yourself.”

This is the most common phrase I hear on my travels. Closely followed by, of course, “aren’t you afraid?” To that question, I often shrug. I’m not.

Four years ago, I made a personal commitment to travel more by taking one trip per year. I got tired of seeing others take these nice vacations and feeling envious. I had talked myself into the notion that I couldn’t afford to do it. After all, like many millennials, I’m knee deep in student loan debt along with a whole host of other debt.

Traveling alone was not my original intent. And traveling with a partner is something I am welcome to doing. However, in my Southern family, I come from deeply rooted people. They don’t really travel much. When it comes to friends, schedules seldom sync up to make a trip happen. Therefore, I travel all by myself.

Rather than write a long essay about my various experiences, I have broken them up into sections. Some are posed as questions and others statements. This allows you, the reader, to pick and choose what sections you want to read.

 The view of Montreal from the Chalet du Mont Royal. It was a cool 5 degrees at this point. Quite a hike but worth the view.

The view of Montreal from the Chalet du Mont Royal. It was a cool 5 degrees at this point. Quite a hike but worth the view.

How do you afford to travel?

First, right off the bat, I limit my travels to US/Canada. Remember, I said earlier that I wanted to take one trip per year. An international trip would cost more and require a longer time to save and plan.

I pay for my trips through a variety of ways: tax return, credit cards, and that floating pay check. My booking, either airfare or AirBnb, usually coincides with the time I get my tax refund. Now, before you think I’m balling on a refund check, I’m not. I am a single woman with no dependents BUT I do pay on my student loans. Usually that helps me to get a nice but small return. The past few years I’ve gotten about $300-$400 back from the government. That amount can typically cover airfare or AirBnb but not both. I use the refund to pay whichever is most expensive.

To cover the rest, I may put the amount on my credit card and then pay it incrementally over the coming months. Or, I wait until I have that “floating paycheck.” I am paid biweekly. If you pay attention, there are about two to three months out of the year where you will get three paychecks instead of two, depending on when your payday falls. Most often, I will pay on credit card, pay incrementally, and when that third paycheck comes, pay the remaining balance.

Now, all I have to do is save a little more for food and transportation costs.

Voila, you now have a trip.

Where have you visited?

Since starting this “one trip per year” plan, I have been to Houston, Chicago, Montreal, and New Orleans.

Do you have a list of places?

No. No written list of places but I do have a general idea. For example, I know I would like to visit San Diego, Vancouver, Nova Scotia, Portland (Oregon and Maine) to name a few. It’s great to get out and see various parts of the country.

When do you travel?

When I decide to travel is based on a little bit of research. For each city, I do some research to determine when their busy tourist season is. Why? To know what time of the year to avoid because that’s when costs are at their highest. I’m fortunate that I have a fall birthday (late October). For many US cities and Canada, that is at the tail end of their tourist season and prices are starting to creep down and the weather is still nice.

How much planning do you do before a trip?

It varies as it depends on my interest level to “see all the things, do all the things” which is, in part, governed by how much time I have in the city. On average, I usually stay about 2-3 full days (excluding travel days). Three days is my maximum before I start missing home, my cat, and home cooked meals.

In generally, I don’t plan out a schedule in the sense of 9 AM go to x museum, 11 AM….etc. I set a daily goal. For example, when I visited Chicago, my goal for the day was to visit the Adler Planetarium and the Field Museum. I set this goal due in part to proximity. They are near each other so why not hit up both?

Most of the time, I keep a fluid schedule to allow for spontaneity. Also, I always check out local bulletin boards in coffee shops, restaurants, etc for any activities that might strike my fancy. For example, in the same Chicago trip, I found out about an Oktoberfest going on at a church. It was a big outdoor venue and they had an amazing 80s cover band. I ended up jamming out with a group of people as we sang loudly and off key to the music. This side adventure wasn’t on my list of things to do. I saw a flyer at a restaurant and decided to go.

You mentioned having a cat. What do you do about him?

I have a 9 year old rescue kitty named Thaddeus. He is fairly self-sufficient. Before and after a trip, I shower him with attention. He may be a bit of a loner cat but after a few days of no human contact, he can be pretty needy.

I use to pay someone (a friend) to come in and play with him. That ended up not being feasible in the long run as I also travel for work. Shelling out money each time and then coordinating with a friend for the key exchange became too much.

About a year ago, when I moved to Detroit, I purchased an automatic feeder for dry food. For context, I typically feed the old man twice per day (6:15 am & 6:15 pm). When I’m traveling, he only gets fed once per day at 6:15 am. The automatic feeder can only dispense up to 5 days worth of food. I make sure to fill up each feeder trough to the brim.

On the day I’m leaving, he gets one whole can of wet food (he usually gets half) and then a separate bowl of dry food and a full bowl of water. Essentially, I over feed that first half day I’m gone.

Lucky for me, Thad is a grazer. He takes his time to eat. So when I come home, he is seldom hungry just very clingy that I’ve been gone.

 Thaddeus Lorenzo Stevens aka Old Man, aka Bub, aka Fat Man

Thaddeus Lorenzo Stevens aka Old Man, aka Bub, aka Fat Man

How do you get around?

Combination of ways: by foot, public transportation, and ride-sharing (preferably Lyft). To travel with me, means you will do a LOT of walking. It’s the best way, in my opinion, to experience the city. There are things you miss or don’t notice if you ride-share all the time OR get a rental car. Thus far, I’ve been fortunate that I haven’t needed a rental car. For my Houston trip, I was living in Texas so I drove there.

In general, some of the cities I have traveled to have had decent public transportation. As part of pre-trip prep, I’ll see if they have any daily or weekly passes I can purchase. Bonus points if they have one of those reloadable cards. Side note: if they do, I always get it and hold on to the card. They don’t expire and I never know if I might visit that city again for work.

In terms of ride-sharing, I mostly use this going to/from the airport OR traveling at night. I prefer Lyft as I feel the drivers are nicer and the rates are more reasonable. I’ve sparked up many a conversation with Lyft drivers. I’ve gotten a ride from a math teacher, a stay-at-home mom, a documentary filmmaker, an aspiring nurse.

Travel must haves

My FitBit (for all that walking), a portable cell phone charger, and a book.

The charger was a true godsend. One of the issues I use to have traveling, whether for work or personal, is a dying cell phone. And it usually starts to die around the time I need it the most. My New Orleans trip (and my latest) was the first time I had the charger. Soooooo, helpful.

Any harrowing experiences?

In Montreal 2016 (and in December no less!), I got unbelievably lost. I had the printed instructions to get to my AirBnb as I knew I would have spotty cell service. Side note: Canada is behind the times when it comes to their cell service. At best, you might get 3G but you can guarantee you’ll have 2G.

Anyhoo, I overestimated my remembrance of the French language and got off at the wrong subway stop. My cell phone was dying so I had to use it sparingly. So there I am wandering around a foreign country, lost, at night, and the temperatures were dropping.

I turned a corner and saw the Starbucks logo. Y’all don’t know the relief I felt. I popped in, ordered a cup of really hot coffee, and asked for directions. The barista in French-accented English helped me out. I made sure to write down her instructions. Turns out I was only a few blocks from my AirBnb. I said a “merci” and headed on my way. That was one of my most harrowing experiences.

 How I spent most of my time in Montreal in December. Thoroughly covered and layered up. Under this jacket I wore two layers of clothing.

How I spent most of my time in Montreal in December. Thoroughly covered and layered up. Under this jacket I wore two layers of clothing.

Have you had any awful AirBnb experiences?

*knocks on wood*

Fortunately no. Interestingly on that aforementioned Montreal trip that was the first time I used AirBnb. Once I got to the place after being lost, I did have the realization that I was meeting the male owner of the AirBnb, in the studio apartment, by myself. Suffice to say I was on high alert. He ended up being quite a pleasant man and we chatted for a bit and then he left. Unfortunately, our conversation touched on the recent 2016 election. I plastered on a fake smile, my people of color know what I’m talking about, when he talked about how our current president could be the catalyst to shake things up. Riiiiiight. Ok, byyyyyyeeeee.

In general, most of the time, the key is left for me in one of those lock boxes and I never meet the owner.

What’s it like to travel as a black woman?

I haven’t experienced any blatant, overt acts of racism or sexism. But I do experience that hypervisibility/invisibility that many black women experience and have written about. For example, in a lot of my travels and in certain spaces, I may be the only or one of a few minorities in a primarily white space. In New Orleans, the French Quarter is one of the places you should check out. I found, shockingly so, that I was one of the few dots of color as I walked around. I did see black people but often they were either street entertainers or sanitation workers. (That in and of itself made me feel some kind of way.) I found that people, other (white) tourists, would notice me. Some would flat out stare. Why? You’ll have to ask them.

Then there is contending with the invisibility side. It is to contend with white people who act as if I’m not there. Whether its while walking on the sidewalk, taking public transportation, or ordering at a cafe. I call these your sidewalk hoggers, space invaders, and amenity blockers. All of these people, whether they acknowledge it or not, are subtly demanding of me to minimize myself or wait my turn until they’re ready. Not only that, many of them. Yes, many of them know exactly what the f**k they are doing. I see it in the way they look at me. Look dead at me and then continue doing the thing they are doing whether it inconveniences me or not.

Now, I recognize that we are living in perilous times. And, I recognize that each circumstance should be taken on a case-by-case basis. If at any time you feel like your very safety is at risk, don’t do it.

That being said, on my own path of self-love and change, I live by a simple motto now:

Take. Up. Space.

Advocating for oneself has become erroneously synonymous with aggressive confrontation. Like you’re ready to square up and lay some hands on folks. Nope.

Taking up space is refusing to be minimized. If I’m walking down a sidewalk and I have no room to get over but a couple walking on the other side does, I square up. I keep moving forward. Either they will yield space or we’re going to collide. Simple as that. And I have collided with people. Some have apologized but most haven’t. But they have now had a lesson on learning to be mindful of others.

Taking up space is letting folks know they are holding up progress. At this point in my travels, I have zero qualms of saying clearly “excuse me,” “are you done?” “i need to get over here” or “i’m not finished” in order to disrupt the many ways white people take up space and expect that deference. For example, I was at a cafe with a self-serve coffee station. There were two white men at the station. I was behind them. Both of them noticed I was behind them but continued their conversation long after filling their cups. Hence the moniker amenity blockers. Once I got hip to it, I said in a very clear and stern voice  “are you finished? Some of us (gesturing to the folks behind me) would like to get our coffee.” I called out their behavior while pointing out how they are inconveniencing several other people. They never apologized (I didn’t expect them too) but they got out the damn way.

America is a country based on this straight white supremacist capitalist patriarchy hegemony. If you lie outside of any of those identifiers it is expected that you will defer to it. To do so requires you to relinquish your identity and minimize who you are. This country can not progress to where it needs to be until this is challenged and toppled but also for those of us to assert our identities. This deference is no longer the way. To refuse to defer is in and of itself a challenge to this hegemony.

 Best tour I took in Chicago. This was a mere weeks before the Chicago Cubs won the World Series. I attribute their win to my visit. #justsaying

Best tour I took in Chicago. This was a mere weeks before the Chicago Cubs won the World Series. I attribute their win to my visit. #justsaying

Share what it’s like traveling as a woman.

It isn’t much different but it does have a layer of caution. I may seem like a stick in the mud but I don’t immerse myself in the nightlife that much when I travel and I have a two drink maximum. For the first part about nightlife, a big reason for this is that I’m usually pretty active during the day with lots of walking. Context: on average, I walk about 5-7 miles per day. Sure, I will venture out for dinner but I find I’m pretty tired by 9 PM. In my most recent trip to New Orleans, I actually got out at night because I did a better job of conserving my energy. My AirBnb was only three blocks west of a vibrant bar and restaurant strip.

The two drink maximum is a general rule for me. I’m not a big drinker and if I do drink, two drinks is my cut off. At two drinks, I start to feel relaxed but still have my wits about me. If I want to do three then I definitely pair with food.

In Montreal, I didn’t travel at night because the 10 degree temperatures kept me in. Instead, I listened to music, picked a book from the Airbnb’s bookshelf, and drank a copious amount of red wine.

In New Orleans, I went out twice. In both instances, I walked to where I was going because they were a short distance. The city has many a shadowy, uneven sidewalk. For streets that were this way, I walked in the middle of the street where there was the most lighting. I used my phone sparingly as I didn’t want to be distracted. Case in point, I was walking back from a bar. I saw this couple who were both on their phones. I got within 5 feet of them before they noticed I was there. Now imagine if I was someone with ill-intent.

I generally don’t get hit on by guys. I think it may be a combination of the resting bitch face (which I have grown to appreciate) and my demeanor. I’ve been told I give off a “leave me alone” vibe. I’m OK with that. I don’t mind chatting people up but I’m not looking to pick anyone up or be picked up. At the end of the day, I don’t know you from a random person on the street. The rare occasions I have been hit on I felt I was in a safe enough environment to rebuff the advance without feeling like my life was in danger.

I mentioned on Twitter how I was hit on by a drunk guy in New Orleans. He had the wherewithal not to be pushy and asked if I wanted to keep talking or did I want to be left alone. At that time, I wanted to be left alone and I said as much. He left me alone.

I do get street harassed and cat-called. Now, what I do is I will put my earbuds in, sometimes there is music and sometimes there isn’t, and wear my shades. The earbuds give me a natural out because, to them, I may not have heard them. I make a point of not reacting to what they say because then they may get hip to the fact I can hear them. Thankfully, I haven’t been followed but I do make a point to look around me and subtly check.

Any last traveling advice or words of wisdom?

Traveling is possible. You may not be able to do a “one trip a year” but one trip every other year or every three years is possible. If you have someone traveling with you, that can help to cut down on individual costs.

Trust your gut. If something doesn’t feel right, listen to that feeling. Don’t dismiss it. At the end of the day, you are in an unfamiliar place by yourself.

Learn your cardinal directions. Which way is north, south, east, and west. This skill comes in really handy if your phone is dying but you know you’re headed east. When I arrive at my AirBnb, I usually pull up the map on my phone and orient myself. If I head right, which direction am I heading?






#wellness27: A Retrospective

On October 1, I started #wellness27.  (27 days on, 4 days off for vacation)

It was a personal challenge to myself to revamp my life. The areas that received the biggest attention were health and finances. I’ve been pretty candid online about my health struggles but not so much with my finances.

For those not in the know, in 2017, I went to the doctor for a physical. It had been years since I had one. The results from my blood work revealed that I had an elevated blood sugar. Not enough to be considered prediabetic.

My body was essentially saying:

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And boy did it get real. This is important because for years, unbeknownst to me, I was struggling with depression. I talk about it extensively on this site. Part of my “dealing with it” was to self-medicate via food. I ate all the terrible things: soda, chips, tacos. I mean, I was living in Austin, Texas (2015-2017) and tacos are so good, cheap, and readily available.

I knew that my weight had creeped up. Clothes weren’t fitting. I started working out even changing up my work schedule to accommodate early morning workouts. (I like to work out in the early hours.) Yes, I did lose weight. Dropped about 8 lbs in 2-3 months. However, I didn’t do the work of seriously considering the food I was putting into my body.

Honestly, I prayed to God to help me find the strength to follow through. I still struggled.

Well, the proverbial chicken came home to roost in 2017. This was a HUGE wake up call. My grandmother struggled with diabetes. I knew people who were diabetic. Many of them suffered with it to varying degrees.

Once the news settled in, I immediately got to work. I started working out more. Planning out my meals better. However, I still struggled with leaning on my food crutch. October 2018 was the wake up to do something more drastic.

The rules were simple

Budget - I created an Excel spreadsheet and noted all of my expenses. I pulled up past banking statements and reviewed them. I made notes of not only what I paid but when bills were paid. I learned pretty quickly that from the 15th to the end of the month was a BIG payout. About 70% of my bills hit during that time. Conversely, from the beginning of the month to the 15th, things were lighter. I was flush with cash.

And that’s when I got loose with my money.

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No added sugars or sweets, No alcohol, No eating out, Walk more - All of these were an effort to control what I ate and to get me more active. In addition to the walking more, I continued with my 3x/week HIIT workout.

All social media + tech-related activities stop after 7 PM (mon-thur) and all day on Sunday - This was the surprising outcome. When I stopped checking Twitter or Facebook and put down the phone and turned off the tv, I found I had so much time in the evening. I got things done around the house so weekends became more chill and full of activities. I slept deeply. I took up writing and reading.

Verdict:

It was a mixed bag especially toward the end.

  • I confirmed that much of my overeating is tied to my emotions. I learned so was my spending. Having a bad day? Spend some money or eat that food. Doesn’t matter if you’re not hungry.

  • I discovered that when you cut out sugars + are somewhat on a low carb diet you crave peanut butter like nobody’s business. Like, A LOT.

  • I have cultivated an “eat all the bad things” attitude prior to, during, and after a trip. As mentioned earlier, I had a scheduled vacation to New Orleans so I would hit pause on #wellness27. My bad travel habits, despite almost 3 weeks of clean(ish) new habits, came back to bite me big time. It was a bit of a stumble that unfortunately I wasn’t able to completely shake to finish #wellness27 strong.

  • Giving up alcohol wasn’t that big of a deal.

  • Not eating out did hamper some social activities with friends. (When did eating and drinking become such a big social activity among friends??)

  • I learned about other non-eating out and non-drinking activities in this town. I checked out a variety of things in Detroit and began to slowly fall in love with the city.

Overall, I’m glad I did #wellness27. I’ll continue on in some form or another but may lighten up on *some* of the restrictions.



Promised Land Revisited

I've been searching for a long time. Feeling as if I've been wandering in the wilderness (thankfully not 40 years). And yet, recently, I've hit upon an important decision about my life and everything has clicked into place. What was now restlessness is replaced with hopeful anticipation. You can say this is part two of my Promised Land post.

Is that what if felt like for the Israelites standing on the precipice of immense change. It is for this reason I decided to read Deuteronomy. It's a snapshot of my life right now.

Now let's hit pause:

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Moses is not my favorite of the men in the bible. He comes off very blame-shifty. "But God it isn't my fault." Thankfully, there isn't a ton of that in Deuteronomy. While we're at it, the patriarchy and genocide is rampant. There were times I stopped reading to say WTF, God? That's a separate post for another time.

Deuteronomy hits on a central theme of stepping into your promise as God has declared it over your life. Some of us are still seeking it. Others know what it is but, like me, find yourself running from it. But in both instances, you're left feeling restless. It's the undercurrent in your life. Sure, things, people, and circumstances will distract you for a time - days, weeks, even years - but it's like a mosquito buzzing in your ear.

This book of the bible is all about preparing you for stepping into that promised land. It's a reflection of where you are and where you've been. It's a corrective calling your attention to where you've messed up and it reflects promise. It pivots around a basic and yet profound statement:

Trust and obey God

Trust that he's got you like he has before.

Obey what he tells you to do and when to do it.

Trust when it doesn't make sense.

Obey when you don't want to.

Trust when you're scared.

Obey even when it's hard.

And friends, it is hard. It's hard to recognize when there are limits to your power. That ultimately, it's in God's hands. It is hard when you want to do and God clearly says "no" or "wait."

But he doesn't leave you twisting in the wind. He validates his promise. It can come from any direction, any person, or circumstance. A reminder that he is here. My validations have come from people I know and strangers. To have a stranger speak to you exactly what God spoke to you and then that person float out of your life leaves you SHOOK.

To be clear, the promised land does not mean you won't have to do the work. God, through Moses, told them what lay ahead of them. The people they would encounter and overcome in order to gain what God promised.

My journey into the promised land, the fullness of God's promise, won't be easy but neither will yours. He makes no such promise. He does let you know that if you trust and obey him, he'll prepare your way. That nothing and no one will stand long against you. 

But you've got to show up and do the work.

Decolonize Your Mind

I love bell hooks. I love the way she thinks and writes ever since reading her book Teaching To Transgress. My reading of the book coincided with my reading of Teaching with Primary Sources from the Society of American Archivists, in which I wrote a blog post. From that auspicious beginning, I read Killing Rage: Ending Racism and Ain’t I a Woman: Black Women and Feminism. A recurrent theme of hooks’ is “decolonize your mind.” Her work, in many ways, validated my experience as a black woman but it also cast a critical lens on this life I live. White supremacy is a helluva drug and I’m realizing that it’s a drug I have steadily consumed for 33 years.

Point of clarification, before proceeding further, I am writing from a black, cis-het, female perspective. I’m writing for minority audiences, specifically black people. Decolonizing our minds is a concept we must begin to grapple with as a community. For white readers, since this is public, I challenge you to read thoughtfully and thoroughly as I hope you too will learn something from this writing. But know this isn't a space to hear how you feel or what you think.

Let’s take it back (for those who know this, indulge me)

Scientific racism (aka race biology) was pseudoscience promulgated as scientific fact by Europeans (read: white) to study biological differences. Not so coincidental is that this type of “scientific study” popped up as soon as Europeans expanded beyond their borders to conquer and colonize the world. They encountered people different than them. So they treated the people they encountered as specimens to be studied, put on display, and bodies to be dissected. They defined progress and culture on their terms and any civilization or peoples not up to that level were regarded as inferior. Heathens. They studied the skulls of Africans, Asians, etc and developed theories to back up these racist ideas of their superiority and the inferiority of “the other.” Some of the top (white) thinkers of the day believed this bullshit such as Thomas Jefferson.

In turn, these beliefs laid the foundation for justifying slavery in the United States, apartheid in South Africa, and even the Eugenics movement which advocated selective breeding and compulsory sterilization. This movement in particular was popular in the 20th century and can be seen in the Nazi Germany regime.

I write this for context. In a video, anti-racism activist Jane Elliott (known for her Blue/Brown eye experiment) put it succinctly, “we started out as one human race but then we were divided into categories.” From that European-created division, they demarcated who was superior and who was inferior. Guess who was at the top? Their shitty “science” was a mask to cover up their sins of racism and colonization. These beliefs accepted as fact.

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In the case of American black people, we supposedly felt less pain, are predisposed to hard labor, and intellectually inferior. Slap on the yoke of slavery, the white conversation shifted to slavery being good for us. In fact, the best thing to happen to us as a people because it got us out of “dirty, filthy Africa.” Because we were regarded as lesser, families could be broken up and black women raped because we were lower life forms. The desire for freedom, kinship, and education were regarded and treated by white enslavers as a mental disorder. Something was wrong with us because we wanted to be free. The powerful yearning for freedom led to uprisings and revolts which tacked on a fear among whites. This led to policing black bodies and an unease of too many black people gathered together, especially black men. With the American Civil War and Reconstruction, black people were free….but not really. Now, because we expected more and didn’t want to work for free, we were called lazy (actually enslaved people were called lazy throughout slavery). U.S. Freedmen Bureau records, a short-lived government agency established during Reconstruction, are replete with letters and other documents of white people complaining about the laziness of black people, their former slaves. Or, black people, men in particular being arrested for “loitering.” Now prisons became the new plantation.

Do you see the pervasiveness of white supremacy? Do you see how its seeped in? Do you see in the history how those words and actions are parroted now?

White supremacy is codified in the DNA of white people and accepted as fact, even among white people who profess to be liberal. They have breathed it in from birth. (Side note: for white readers here is a great Twitter thread on white fragility and white supremacy)

It’s easy to point the finger at white people but now let’s shift to the heart of this essay. Black people, we have not escaped unscathed. White supremacy is the poison and we have drunk from the same water.

White supremacy is most apparent in the stanning and policing of each other based on white supremacist standards and defense mechanisms.

It is embedded in the ongoing conversation of colorism where lighter skin is regarded as beautiful and aspirational. Darker skin regarded as ugly. This has led to generations of infighting amongst us and self-hatred. I see it on social media as dark-skinned black people, more often black women, are fighting to be heard and included (see pretty much any tweet by @IWriteAllDay_). It is present in the favoritism parents, family, and society give to the lighter-toned among us. It is in the family members that tell you not to play in the sun too much or, as they warn, you’ll get “too dark.” It is to be asked, as a black woman, if you are mixed or biracial because the only accounting for your beauty is if your blackness is diluted. (I shit you not, I had a 30ish black man ask me this because he couldn’t believe that my curly hair came from having two fully black parents.)

It is in the black police officers who participate or turn a blind eye in the “extreme policing” of black lives. The most recent example is the image of black police officers violently dispersing protests after Chicago barber Harith Augustus was killed. They are steeped in white supremacy where black (and brown) lives are suspect and must be policed.

It is present in violence that we, as black people, perpetuate on other people of color. We accept the white supremacist view of difference and spread its toxic out. See this story.

It is commenting and policing each other’s hair and then claiming it was a joke.

It is weaponizing Chicago and other economically-depressed areas as an example of crab mentality without educating ourselves on the systemic issues in that area and the work of folks on the ground.

It is the easy acceptance of white allies who show an elementary grasp of basic human decency. (You don’t deserve a cookie or an invite to the cookout because you recognize that black people are people.)

It is tearing each other down by holding each other to this (invisible) white supremacist standard.

And when this behavior is called out, it is met with scorn, dismissal, and a refusal to see an alternative point of view. Sound familiar?

The thing is white supremacy and those who uphold it will always try to move the goal post of acceptance. Keep it just outside of black reach.

To decolonize our minds, means to be cognizant of and examine our responses to things internal and external to us. Is the thought or action rooted in policing black behavior and and bodies? For example, I had to confront my unease regarding groups of black men. One Saturday morning, I glanced out my 2nd story window to see on the street corner three men, ranging in age from 20-40ish. I stopped and watched them. An unease creeping in me. They chatted, laughed, and went their separate ways. It was then I realized they were just a group of guys talking but why did I feel so uneasy at the sight of them. I sat with that feeling for days. I realized that because of white supremacist culture, I had viewed them with suspicious, with fear.  I assumed them guilty of something or up to no good based on NO evidence.

I’ve had many a moment where I had to grapple with my reaction and thoughts to things. To find myself ready to police another black person’s behavior or words when they were merely pointing out the problem. It means learning and educating myself about black history, black intellectual thought and black feminism, to understand how much of white supremacy I have consumed.

Know that to walk this path of decolonization will open you up to a world that you cannot unknown. To see how problematic you are, your family is, or your friends.

If we want to create a world beyond white supremacy, we have to grapple as a people, as a community, with the damage it has wrought on each other and our psyche. If we don’t, we risk replicating this world, these systems, in the next iteration.

To be truly free, we must decolonize our minds. It is imperative.