Content warning: this post discusses White supremacy, Black death, and police brutality.
This has been a hard week, coming after weeks of “unprecedented times.”
And, like so many of you, I’m tired.
I’m over being adaptive, and nimble and pivoting, and responding rather than reacting, and being resilient. I’m tired of crying and fearing for my life, those of people I love, and Black folks generally.
And to be honest, I was caught off guard.
I sort of thought that, as the country opened up just a little, I’d cautiously begin to consider what was next.
I didn’t know that back before most of the country went on lockdown, there were two people- Ahmaud and Breonna- who’d already lost their lives as a result of white supremacy. And I was unprepared for George Floyd to lose his ability to breathe in the midst of this respiratory disease pandemic as a result of the actions of police officers.
I couldn’t know that we’d be thrown into collective grief and pain, and the country would break out into an outcry days after I held a client’s baby in my arms for the first time in months.
While this is not exactly true, it sort of feels like I held a beautiful brown baby boy, and laughed in delight at his older brother (a toddler) and chatted with their mom and dad… And then I walked out into a world on fire.
The joy I felt in holding him close while his mom got just a touch of rest back has started to feel almost naive.
Who were we to think things were on an upswing? Who are we to think that we can experience relief, connection, rest and joy, especially as Black folks in America?
I have to stop myself there though. Because joy, connection, and a sense of safety and support are the point. Especially for Black folks in America.
They will always be the point of doula work. And they are some of the most life-giving, powerful feelings that we can strive for as Black people.
I believe that. I’m writing this blog for you all who read it, but I’m also writing it to affirm this for myself.
Our families matter just as much as our work for justice. Your babies matter as much as your stance on political issues.
When we’re fighting policy brutality and white supremacy, it is a matter of life and death.
And this is the life we’re fighting for- one that involves healing, family, community and love.
I haven’t always been able to stay grounded in this truth though.
There have been times when the doubt has overtaken me, and I’ve ended up curled in a ball.
Sometimes that was due to my own struggles with depression and anxiety. But sometimes that collective grief of the latest person who won’t get to go home to his or her family, or the push towards safety and security for Black women in the birth room is what gets overwhelming.
There are times that it’s led me to check out completely.
Not this week though. For now, I’m feeling devastated, and yet moving forward.
I noticed this, and tried to piece together what was different. How am I still going? How can you keep going right now?
Here’s what I’ve got so far:
I’m giving myself permission to feel all of my feelings.
We’re often taught that some feelings are good, or bad. And the sadness, rage, grief, confusion and fear that can come up right now aren’t seen as things to indulge in. They don’t feel safe, and there’s a huge need for safety right now.
But what if, by stuffing those feelings down, we’re doing damage to ourselves? What if we’re making ourselves less human?
I no longer believe that there are bad feelings or good ones. Feelings just are, and we’re entitled. So I’ve been workin to just notice my feelings, name them and not judge them.
I’m checking in with what I want.
There’s this practice that I’ve learned recently- I sit and ask myself, several times a week, “What do you really want?”
Maybe this isn’t a paradigm shift for some of you reading. But I know that as women, and especially as Black women, we’re often taught not to prioritize what we want. At most, we can ask for what we need, but not much more than the minimum.
One thing in particular that I’ve been asking myself this week is what I want to do- about my feelings, about those of other people’s, and about all the opportunities to act in front of me.
It’s helped me stay out of pure survival mode. Thank God. It’s let me stay tuned into the work that is mine, and move it forward.
I’m no longer editing myself.
Just like we’re taught to bury our feelings and our wants, we’re also taught to make ourselves nice for other people. We often believe that we can’t be angry, tired or scared as Black women, and if we need to rest, it will be seen as lazy.
But here’s a thing I’ve learned- the people that believe we’re less than, don’t stop believing it because we make their lives easy. In fact, we only make it easier for them to treat us however they like, regardless of what we want, need and deserve.
This is true in our birth rooms, on our jobs, after tragedy and in our families. It’s been a big lesson for me.
I’m cursing more, because there’s lots to cuss about. I’m crying more. I’m saying no more. And it’s making room for me to say yes to what I actually want. It’s making the work of getting up every day, and certainly the work of serving families, much lighter. I’m into it.
I’m letting others help.
I’ve noticed that more businesses and individuals seem to be ready to act and help. There are uprisings, as there have been for the past few years. But there’s also this group that seems larger than before that say they see the pain of Black folks in America. On a personal level, white friends and acquaintances are reaching out to me personally.
Now, there’s a skeptical part of me that doesn’t want to trust it. I question the motives and sincerity of brands sending messages, and white friends and acquaintances sharing information or checking on me.
But a funny thing has happened since I’ve been paying attention to my own feelings and wants- other people’s motives matter less.
Now, when someone offers help, I think, “Do I want what’s being offered? And what can this allow me to move forward?” Can this serve us in some way?
And then, because I’m more tuned in to what’s right for me these days, I accept the help and say thank you, or I say no. And I trust that whatever I’ve decided is probably right.
This process has simplified my life this week. It’s helped me show up in ways I don’t think I could have a couple of years ago, or even a couple of months ago.
It’s mostly internal, and it’s allowed me to act- to donate, to show up for clients and our doula team, to make decisions and to not curl up and hide under the covers forever. (Though this past weekend, what I wanted was to watch Marvel movies with my boyfriend and have wine. There’s still plenty of room for that.)
Feeling my feelings hasn’t made me weak, like I think I expected. Asking myself what I want hasn’t made me selfish. Being honest about who I am right now hasn’t made me erratic or a bitch, and accepting help hasn’t made me a sucker, as far as I can tell.
I’m going to keep going with this. And if it serves you, try it for yourself. Not just when the next person loses their life, but if you’re struggling with how to manage the stress of every day life, or pregnancy or a new baby.
Feel your feelings. Ask yourself what you want. Don’t edit yourself. Accept help.
And then tell me what happens. May you and your family feel a as safe as you can, and a little bit freer.
It’s my hope for you, because your Black life does matter to me, and I want you to live it well.
For more support contact us, we are happy to help.
