5. On Heartbreak

I am a black woman.

I'm sitting in the corner of a smaller cafe and am trying my best to keep from crying in front of my friends. A part of me kind of wants them to see my tears-----only so that some kind of cross-cultural/cross-gender conversation could be prompted, but I worry that I won't be able to express what I'm feeling clearly and/or I will be met with blank faces and empty words. It's not their faults if they don't understand, I know.
I'm honestly not even sure where to start when it comes to talking about this. While doing some work on my capstone, I read this article that sought to analyze and compare sex-trafficking in a handful of international cities. Two observations from the article were the breaking point for me: 1.that being a woman and 2. having a deeper skin tone were both noted as risk factors for sex trafficking.

To be black and to be woman.

The past few months years of highlighted racial tensions have been exhausting in itself. From the killing of unarmed and/or innocent black men, women, and children to the systemic denial to recognize black lives as worthy of justice and defense---this coupled with being told that we are "overreacting" or "too sensitive" or "making things up" is really a lot to carry. I'm usually the optimist; I want to be fair and unbiased but the reality is there's nothing fair or unbiased about systematic racism. There's absolutely nothing fair about research findings that report that your race and gender make you at a higher risk for being exploited. There's absolutely nothing unbiased about being called a "nigger" on your university campus and then nothing being done in response by the administration charged with working for your betterment.

More than being angry or frustrated, I'm heartbroken. I have to wonder what we could have done so wrong to elicit such deep hatred of us-----based completely on the color of our skin. To add to that stress, the burden of being a woman where pay scales, adverts, education rates and the like scream that you are not worthy of respect and whatever you do will never be enough---where the most sacred of acts of intimacy is used as violence to control and destroy your spirit. Yes, I'm heartbroken.
I'm not saying that other races and/or men do not bear their own heavy burden of systemic racism, hatred or discrimination. Neither am I saying that their burden is less important. It's just that today [or yesterday, now], that burden was overwhelming and I felt crushed and deep heartache for black women.

I'm privileged to have the opportunity to be able to pursue education as far as I want and to have been born into a loving and supportive family. I am privileged to be surrounded by supportive, loving people of all colors and genders who remind me of my worth, even when I don't believe them. I am also incredibly aware that I am loved and claimed, as I am, by the Creator of the universe who calls me fearfully and wonderfully made. For these and the last reason especially, I refuse to remain crushed. My privilege was never just for me. I can speak, rise, and fight for those who cannot, and I most certainly will.

To my black women and girls: Whether you believe it or not, you were created and are irrevocably loved, claimed and treasured by the Creator of the universe who loved you and the entire world enough to give everything to be with you. This is your worth. Not based on what you do, have done or will do; not based on the hue of your skin or shape of your body; not based on what he, she, or they say about you. But based completely on the fact that the Creator of the universe knew you, and formed you, and calls you His masterpiece.

Yes, this applies to every human being in creation. Yes, without doubt, adjustment, or hesitation. But, I need to be reminded of this day after day-----specifically so as a black woman to drown out the overwhelming noise that screams everything contrary. So this is me, a mouthpiece graced to be used by a loving God, screaming back at the darkness and lies on our behalf.