Since January, we have witnessed the undoing of generations of our ancestors’ work that enables us to live in a society that recognizes and respects our existence and contribution to America. The drawbacks carry with them a mental and emotional toll. When we are not ourselves, we are not present for our needs or for one another.

When I was in grad school, Henry Louis Gates Jr. visited our campus for a guest lecture. He said something I will never forget: “If I could afford to pay for every African-American to get therapy, I would do it because we all need it.” And we need it in ways we do not even realize.

We all have unresolved issues in our lives whether it’s a family situation, a work issue, or internal struggles that we don’t talk about. In my training with mental health professionals who offer grief recovery assistance to their clients, I utilize the iceberg analogy to illustrate how only so much of our lives can be seen above the surface. The water is the dividing factor between what we reveal to others and what remains underneath the surface. What lies underneath is a litany of unfulfilled hopes, dreams, and expectations that nobody sees because we are either actively suppressing them or we are not yet even aware of their existence. Whether or not we are consciously aware, there is a mental, emotional, and physical price we pay for not healing from our past.

When we talk about comorbidity rates of African-Americans and how we die at higher rates to certain diseases, it is often discussed as a physical epidemic. There is a need for us to expand that conversation into the realms of the mind-body connection and know that everything we hold onto internally sets the framework for our physical, mental and emotional undoing. This is why Henry Louis Gates Jr. is telling us we need to be in therapy. This is why I, as an Advanced Grief Recovery Method Specialist, continue to create content that serves as a reminder that unresolved emotions occupy real estate in our bodies and to a toxic detriment. The work that we all need to actively engage in for the entirety of our lives is discovery and healing. And we need to start back in our childhood and work forward from there.

When I was in junior high, I was bullied by way of being ostracized. My friends in the sixth grade decided to no longer be my friends in the seventh grade because a popular eighth grader didn’t like me. I spent most of the seventh grade by myself. I couldn’t handle the pain, disappointment, and betrayal of my friends so my protective response was to tell myself every day that everything was “okay.” Because I did not truthfully process my emotions or confront my friends, the toxic lesson I carried around with me into adulthood is that I’m unlovable. This is what happens when we don’t properly process our pain: we carry it with us, and it continues to restrict our life.

It wasn’t until I saw a therapist that specializes in EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization Reprocessing) that I realized the extent of my pain. What I had minimized in my mind for decades was actually chronic trauma. The process of EMDR allowed me to disconnect from the trauma to the degree that I could recognize the event as an experience instead of it playing out as a part of my identity. And it changed my life because it caused me to reevaluate, reassess, and reestablish my sense of value to myself and to the world. And this is just one chapter in the story of my life.

We all have chapters in the story of our lives that have not yet been read. But it is time for us as individuals and as a community to dare to open the pages that have remained shut and address all the heartbreak and heal from all the things. I love the sweatshirt that says, “I am my ancestor’s wildest dream.” Our ancestors carried us this far in faith. The greatest gift we can give ourselves in carrying out their legacy is to take care of ourselves deeply.

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How Intangible Losses Affect the Lives, Love, & Happiness of Black People
When it was announced that Carrie Underwood would be singing at Trump’s inauguration, that was an emotionally neutral moment. However, someone on social media dug up a past video of her mocking Obamacare whilst now stating to People Magazine that it is time for us all to “come together in the spirit of unity and looking to the future.” I became instantly incensed. I do not enjoy the volatility of emotions wherein one moment I can be ”just fine”, and the next moment, upon hearing news I find disturbing, I must utilize multitude modalities to restore a sense of peace and joy.

This is clearly not the first time that someone has used their platform to say something divisive only to turn around and call for love and peace for all mankind. Knowing this type of cognitive dissonance exists, some question why bother to be affected emotionally by it. Well, my response can be found in yet another pivotal quote from James Baldwin:

“To be a Negro in this country and to be relatively conscious is to be in a state of rage almost, almost all of the time — and in one’s work. And part of the rage is this: It isn’t only what is happening to you. But it’s what’s happening all around you and all of the time in the face of the most extraordinary and criminal indifference, indifference of most white people in this country, and their ignorance. Now, since this is so, it’s a great temptation to simplify the issues under the illusion that if you simplify them enough, people will recognize them. I think this illusion is very dangerous because, in fact, it isn’t the way it works. A complex thing can’t be made simple. You simply have to try to deal with it in all its complexity and hope to get that complexity across.

Trump’s re-election did not consciously activate any emotion until two days later. My delayed reaction is a habit that began in my childhood where I would pretend that everything was good when it was not. “Everything is okay,” has been my personal mantra to circumvent having to acknowledge and process what I am actually feeling.

After the election, I spent the first couple of days in group text threads and social media posts getting a pulse on how people were feeling. The few people who chose to talk about how they were feeling were met by commenters who were incredulous to any emotion felt and spent. The responses shifted away from emotion and towards intellect and planning. “You didn’t see this coming?!” “I wouldn’t waste one precious ounce of energy on that clown.” “I’m going to sit out these next four years.”

One of the most significant complexities I know of concerning the Black experience in America is the habitual circumventing of the emotional impact of living in this country. We can witness and gather together with collective outrage over moments in life that are expressions of anti-blackness and never get around to acknowledging and processing our uniquely personal losses. The destigmatization of mental health has freed people to not feel shame going to a trained professional to get help with a particular past event. The next step of destigmatization for black mental health is to engage in the consistent practice of processing all our unresolved emotions, especially the ones we ignore. Emotions occupy real estate inside our bodies and when that real estate is toxic, we will experience its mental and physical effects.

The scope of public incidents surrounding anti-blackness is vast. They are as macro as witnessing an unarmed black man being murdered or as micro as being followed by security guard in a store. No matter the scope, each occurrence introduces a deeper level of complexity to our grief, the desire to heal from a loss that is intangible. We have seen brutality and ignorance, but how do you go about grieving the feeling and experience of a loss of safety? This is what I believe is the source of Baldwin’s assertion that to be conscious is to be in a state of rage.

When you have someone rise to power who coddles white supremacist groups, even if your physical life is not presently in danger, the sense of potential harm, already stored in your cells, persists. What then do we do? My suggestions are not new, just necessary.

1) Decrease stress
If you are well-practiced at suppressing your emotions, begin today to find one thing in your life that reduces your stress. You know what you need. Is it therapy? Setting a boundary with a friend or family member? (Nedra Glover Tawwab has written two books on this matter: Set Boundaries, Find Peace & Drama Free).
I also cannot more highly recommend a particular type of therapy called EMDR which helps you disconnect from the trauma of your past so, although the experience still exists, it is no longer a part of your identity.

2) Increase joy
Sometimes the pain of life causes us to be numb to things that we once enjoyed. My prayer is that you rediscover hobbies and friends that are good for your heart and nurture those them.

3) Process all the unresolved emotions that is within your power to do so.
Grief does not have separate compartments inside our hearts. Grief is cumulative. Each unresolved incident is like an individual strain in an interconnected circuitry of pain, heartbreak, and disappointment. It behooves us to clear out as much of these toxic emotions as possible. I know quite a few African-Americans who specialize in the field of grief recovery. I am happy to make a referral should you be ready to begin the work.

The greatest example of self-care I saw last week was the choice that Kamala Harris and Michelle Obama made to skip the pomp and circumstance. May every choice we make be ripe with the boldness to choose, love, and heal ourselves.

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Back when I was in college in the 90’s, there was a t-shirt/sweatshirt that I saw people wearing that said “Love Sees No Color.” Proponents of this concept believe in a colorblind society that has no regard for the color of someone’s skin and can only see the internal qualities of that person. I used to cringe every time I saw that shirt. While I love the sentiment of appreciating people for their inner beauty and character, I take umbrage with the idea that we don’t see what we clearly see. Applying color blindness to your social construct means there is something you are choosing not to see. The Love Sees No Color clan will tell you they have no biases; I welcome them to take an implicit bias test and get a new shirt displaying those results.

This fairy-tale land of colorblindness reached new heights when Obama was elected President of the United States. We began to have conversations of living in a post-racial society because a black man became ‘leader of the free world.’ And yet here we are ushering in a second Trump presidency where political pundits will swear it was the price of eggs that got him re-elected. We have been and continue to be in the throes of an insidious collective consciousness that denies the existence and effects of racism. The people I have grown more and more concerned with contributing to this proliferation are content creators. Their reach is vast and I fear many of us may condone subtle moments of anti-blackness for the sake of being entertained.

When love sees no color through jokes
Just a couple of months ago, I felt compelled to write about an incident where Andrew Schulz claimed to be making a joke about black women that many others, including myself, found to be anti-black at its core. In response to the backlash, he said, “In my opinion, everyone gets these jokes. Once there’s a protected group, it either means we think more or less of that group than everybody else. And I don’t feel that way.”. But if that were true, why on Beyonce’s internet did he engage in comparisons? Why ask the black male guests if they prefer black women or white women? Why when he asks the guests to name women that they think are hot would he have a problem with the black man answering Meg Thee Stallion?

It’s crazy-making as a black woman to feel disregarded and be disrespected only to be told “Well, that’s not what I meant. That’s not what I see. That’s not who I am.” Either he is willfully ignorant or he is playing in our face. And if it’s the latter, he will continue to be checked.

There’s so much talk about whether the line in Kendrick Lamar’s wacced out murals was about Schulz. Technically, it is not. Kendrick may be referencing Schulz as the white comedian but Kendrick is speaking directly to the black people Schulz surrounds himself with.

When Kanye famously said that slavery was a choice, if his free thinking were coherent, what he meant to say was it must have been horrifying to exist within a system that dehumanizes and subjugates you and you don’t know how to free yourself from it. The system has changed but we find ourselves existing in a very similar dynamic. However, unlike our ancestors, we have agency. We don’t have to play along. We don’t have to play nice. We have the ability to establish the rules of engagement. And in so doing, they see us a little more clearly.

When we love sees no color through dancing
There is a TikToker who goes by the name of ladyintgebathroom (yes, with a g). Her content consists of spot-on lip syncing and dancing to a variety of songs, many of them in the hip hop/R&B genre. Some people, including myself, assumed she was down with the culture because she was ten toes down with the music. Cue the record scratch in my head when she reposted multiple posts/comments from Trump supporters. Many black folks posted their own content explaining the math of singing and dancing to black music plus Donald Trump equals cultural appropriation. It’s the counter-response to this thought from other black people that worries me; they deny the possibility of cultural appropriation stating hip-hop/R&B is not “our” music; the music is for everyone. While it is true that the music is available for everyone to listen, it is equally true that the creators of the music she uses for her content are black. Many of us have concerns about Trump enacting policies that promote anti-blackness. (To be clear, when I say us, I mean this percentage of us as stated by NPR: 89% of black women and 74% of black men.)

During Trump’s last presidency, he criminalized BLM protestors but supported those who participated in the Charlottesville hate parade. When he says Make America Great Again, he demonstrates what he means by the people he puts in power. His past and present cabinets are predominantly white men; his hiring perpetuates privilege for them while we watch from the seats of meritocracy.

The lady in the bathroom re-posted this graphic on Facebook that shows two women, one wearing shirts that combined say “You should be able to have strong opinions and be friends with people who think differently.” But differences do matter in friendships. How ironic that they’re both smiling while hiding behind their shades. To this meme, I reply with the words of James Baldwin: “We can disagree and still love each other, unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist.” We may never get to this conversation with the lady in the bathroom because we suffice to watch her dance all our cares away. So, while we’re busy telling people our music is for everyone, let us engage that same energy in discovering if people are truly for us.

The lesson of the day for me is that we, as black people, need to be conscious and careful of what we entertain. Let us recognize the spirit that is underneath the amusement. Let us discern when we have judged a book by its cover and not its content. May we not numb ourselves at the expense of upholding and affirming one another. Asé!

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A couple of months ago, a popular UK podcast called Shxtsngigs (SNG) went on an American tour to promote their show. Hosted by two black men named James & Fuhad, this British podcast is very popular in the States. The tour took a stop on a podcast called Flagrant and clips from that interview went viral this past week for comments that the Flagrant host, Andrew Schulz, made about black women. He had not heard of a popular trending topic called the black wife effect where non-black men marry black women and show their before/after photos of the vast improvement the black woman has made to their life. Schulz’s initial reaction upon hearing about the black wife effect was to disregard it and presume these men were under duress.

Schulz’s commentary was the breeding ground for disrespect to black women. But it was James and Fuhad’s reaction that caused the interview to go viral. The criticism they received was that they should not have been laughing at the jokes about black women but instead should have spoken up and put the host in check.

Here is where it gets murky. Schulz defended his comments by pointing out that he is a stand-up comedian and everything he said was merely a joke. After the fallout from that interview, he and his co-hosts spoke about the incident disregarding any claims that what he said was inappropriate. I kept thinking, am I being gaslit?

I rarely ask that question because as many therapists will tell you, we as a society misuse the term often. So, for this instance, is it gaslighting? Merriam-Webster’s definition of gaslighting is “psychological manipulation of a person usually over an extended period of time that causes the victim to question the validity of their own thoughts, perception of reality, or memories and typically leads to confusion, loss of confidence and self-esteem, uncertainty of one’s emotional or mental stability, and a dependency on the perpetrator.”

And now I understand the murkiness. The victim/target in this instance was not present for this interview. What started as a compliment being given to black women in reference to the black wife effect, Schulz instead changed the narrative to depict black women as angry and scary. The questions of gaslighting come into play as many black women were offended only to be told that they were just jokes. But there is such a thing as a joke going too far. Don’t use stereotypes and tropes to make jokes at our expense. Surely, there are more creative ways to be funny.

That wasn’t the only comment; many things were said. Here are just a few necessary responses:

1. The part where people argue that he was just telling a joke. And that’s the subterfuge of comedy—you can say whatever you want as long as you make it a joke. Growing up, the motto we were taught was, “sticks and stones may break your bones, but names can never hurt you.” But sometimes they do. Sometimes people have mental and/or emotional struggles that get internally activated through external stimuli. One example of said stimulus is a joke. I, as a black woman, am particularly sensitive to narratives that paint black women as scary or difficult as if we corner the market on those traits. Joke or not, I am not a fan of perpetuating that narrative. So, you feel free to tell your little jokie-jokes and I’ll feel free to tell you it’s not funny.

2. The part where black men don’t have to protect black women from a joke.
One of the Flagrant co-hosts (who is neither black nor a woman) chose to say, “Black female friends don’t feel bad about this.” I hope he went back and read the comments because all I saw was black woman after black woman talking about how offensive the segment was. If any comment classifies as gaslighting, it’s this one: pretending that what has been said does not exist.

3. The part where he said that SNG’s real community doesn’t have a problem with the interview. Schulz kept talking about SNG’s community as if it’s their fan base. In reality, there were two communities at play: there’s a small c community (fans) and a large C community (the black diaspora). Schulz does not understand the latter so from his purview, the two camps are: fans and haters. And what do you do with a hater? You disregard anything they say, and that is what he has chosen to do with all the people who were offended.

Even if this incident is not a textbook example of gaslighting, it does serve as a textbook way of how to respond to anti-blackness. Call it out. Every time. It may seem fruitless like calling out into a void, but there is still purpose. We speak up and call things as they are. And when we don’t get it right the first time, like SNG in that interview, we do better next time.

This blog was also originally posted in my monthly column with the Sac Observer. Go there to check out more columns or to explore their award-winning journalism.

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Today, I’d like to highlight an unsung hero for Black History Month.  She is the epitome of #leadershipgoals for my life.  The foundation of her profound wisdom was developed through the art of listening.  She was a major influence in the lives of all the well-known civil rights leaders.  She dedicated her life to training up the generation behind her.  She spoke the language of Black Lives Matter decades before the term ever existed.

Her name is Ella Baker and she is often referred to as the Mother of the Civil Rights Movement.  And yet, many people still don’t know her name.  She would not see that as a problem, however, as she ardently believed, “One must do what one’s conscience bids them do and from no one except yourself, expect applause.”

The list is long and the correlations astonishing between the ideas she promoted in the mid 1900’s and the social climate we are faced with today.  Before there was Stacey Abrams, there was Ella Baker. Her contributions and achievements should be required reading for every present-day activist.  

Maybe you’ve just been looking to learn more about a significant person in history.  I can’t think of a better place to start than with Ella Baker.  She is highlighted in the PBS Series The African Americans: Many Rivers to Cross. 

There are also various speeches and biographies that you can explore on YouTube: 

Ella Baker Speaks!

The Story of Ella Baker

The Ella Baker Story

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James (name has been changed) was tall, light, and handsome.  We had known each other for almost a year when he asked me out on a date.  I was thoroughly confused because his best friend had just asked me out on a date the week before.  “Don’t you guys talk to each other?,” I asked.  “Yes,” he said.  “We both like you so we think you should decide who you want to date.”

Sounds like something influenced by The Bachelor, right?  Well, this experience took place a year before The Bachelor aired for the first time.  It was just two guys and a girl trying to navigate these murky waters of singleness.  My single life was as turbulent and unpredictable as they came. Highlights of my single days were: for a span of  two years, guys “dated” me not because they actually liked me but because they were bored; a guy took me out on a lavish date only to call me from jail the next week asking me to bail him out; and then there were the years where I just felt invisible to men.  Those experiences, and many more, are how I found comfort in seeing a grip of people drive up to that mansion hoping to find their forever boo. 

There are some who believe the whole thing is rigged for tv and no one in their right minds would ever go on a show like that to find love.  I disagree.  When dating in real life has left you feeling like you keep hosting parties that no one attends, why not try something else?!  While the moments of histrionics the show puts the suitors through are unnecessary, what I appreciate about the show is that it gives each person the opportunity to witness how they show up in relationships and hopefully challenge them to adjust to becoming their best dating self. From the most recent season of The Bachelorette, one of the fellas who got rejected talked about how the show was a blessing for him because it shook him out of the passive way he used to pursue relationships.  For every person that has ever asked me, “Why would you ever watch that show?!,” I contend that notwithstanding the inherent messiness of how they date, there are emotional and psychological lessons to learn about yourself in the midst of this type of environment.  

One of the biggest commentaries against The Bachelor is that many of the couples split up; the show is great in helping people hook up but then leaves those people ripe for ruin once the cameras stop rolling.  But it seems like the longer the show is on the air, the more successful it’s become in couples staying together.  Besides, aren’t we all out in these streets (pre and post pandemic) doing the best we know how, mitigating our baggage whilst learning how to be a better partner?  That’s what I get out of The Bachelor.  What’s ironic for me is that it’s uncharacteristic of me to follow a show that is so historically lacking in diversity.  And yet I’m fascinated.

My husband does not in the least bit share my views.  Here are his thoughts.

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I’m one of those people repulsed by The Bachelor. I hate the show. Period. While we dated and after we were married, my wife Jocelyn continued to suggest, then harass, then demand that I watch the show with her. She even had the audacity to say that it could be part of our “together time.” Clearly, I relented. I immediately regretted my decision. 

The grotesque performance romance on display does not sully love, as it were, but denigrates the human spirit trading the necessary “off camera” work of self-development for the on camera show of competition.  For the men on the show, especially when a dozen men are simultaneously dating one woman, their sensitivity is mocked, their bodies objectified as they are thrown into a competitive caldron of gamesmanship to win the affection if not arousal of one woman. Sounds familiar yes and possibly just rewards for a society that has objectified, belittled, mocked, stereotyped and lampooned women. All that I’ve said about the men on the show feigning in a baker’s dozen for one woman goes doubly so for the women locked in battle for a guy that couldn’t worth the level of humiliation and self-loathing required and displayed on the show. 

Now some will say that all The Bachelor is doing is making public what happens in private. I disagree. I agree. I disagree because usually 12 on 1 liaisons happen over a period of time and the full egg carton of suitors never meet. One could say that the show espouses honesty and transparency and the ultimate of adult behaviors, setting boundaries and asking for what you want. Herein I agree. But the show is, after all, a show. And what we know about a show is that what’s behind the curtain is more important and meaningful than what’s in front. We see, through careful editing and television witchcraft, what they want us to see. Emotions amplified for maximum effect. Cut away to the single teared cry. The anguish. The triumph. The ask. This is not reality. This is a presentation of reality that, because its gaze is pronounced or labeled as love or the search for love, is artificial and through its viewing and wide viewership is transforming the way love is seen, viewed and felt. 

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What say you?  I’m here for you to either vent or confess your Bachelor feelings.

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My parents made a lot of sacrifices to put me through private school.  But I wanted to be with all the cool kids.  And the cool kids went to public school.  I begged my mom to let me go to public school in the 8th grade.  She relented.  But at the young age of 12, I was unaware of educational disparities.  I went from high standards & expectations to some form of babysitting.  

I will never forget going to the Vice Principal to ask for permission to join the honors classes so I could be challenged more in my academics.  He told me, “You’re fine where you are.”  (My blood still boils, to be honest.)

I didn’t get my parents involved because, hello!  This is what I asked for.  Don’t you know that by the end of the year, I was begging to go back into private school.  Systemic racism is not political fodder.  It’s a freakin’ reality that I was exposed to at an early age.  I’m asking parents of color to be consciously aware of the people in charge of educating your child, starting from pre-school until they graduate from high school.

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SPOILER ALERT  If you don’t want a fond childhood memory to be shook, you may not want to read this entire post.  Alternately, if you care about knowing the truth at all costs, keep reading.

Remember last week when I was talking about the origin of the ‘black people & watermelon’ stereotype?  Well, if you can imagine, it gets worse.  The racist images were on display in advertisements and in entertainment.  But it didn’t stop there.  The stereotype grew in such a way to teach the next generation to hate as well.

Name this familiar sound from our childhood:

If you said it’s the sound of the ice cream man, you’re only half-right.  It is indeed that heartbeat-inducing music that would cause us to stop whatever we were doing to beg our parents for money to go get a [insert name of YOUR favorite popsicle].  Unfortunately, that song is also the soundtrack to the watermelon stereotype.

Check this out. 

The song’s aim was to further dehumanize Black people by saying we’re so simple and ignorant that not even ice cream can tear us away from our watermelon obsession.  Ain’t that some ish?!!!  Post George Floyd, there was quite a bit of talk about black trauma. Yet trauma doesn’t have to be as overt as watching George Floyd being murdered. It can persist in much more subtle ways, like in a song.

Why talk about this now?  What about the argument that says we should let the past be the past? Well one of the things my work with Grief Recovery has taught me is that all unresolved pain from the past affects us in the present. We are not meant to ignore our past; we are meant to address it then make necessary changes. So the next time you hear that ice cream truck rolling through your neighborhood, what will you do?  

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When I was in grad school, Henry Louis Gates, Jr. came to speak on campus. I wrote about in a previous post. He said something I’ll never forget which is, “If I could pay for every African-American to get therapy, I would because we all need it.”  I agree.  

I love my family. I love Jesus. I love love. With all that love going around, there were still moments this past year where I felt I was going to lose my ever-loving mind (and not just because of Coronavirus.)  Thankfully, I have people to talk to. But there are many people during this pandemic that don’t have any support.  But I feel the social tide turning towards recovery and wellness. I’m hearing more and more people talk about being in therapy. I’m here for it! I’m all about it! But I know some environments where it’s still taboo:

Culturally Where I grew up, you would be labeled crazy to go see a therapist. Not only that, there was family pressure to not be telling all your business.

Spiritually There are plenty of people who believe that if you have mental or emotional struggles, your lack of faith is the reason. Some people never seek help because they’re told that loving Jesus more, reading your Bible more, and praying harder & longer will solve their problem.

Socially Nobody likes to feel like a hot mess. Many choose to suffer in silence and pretend that their life is great because everyone else looks like they have it all together.

Regardless of what has stopped you until now, it is my hope that this and every Black History Month, more people come to the realization that getting help is the best thing you can do for yourself.  

Here are a couple of resources:

Therapy for Black Girls *

Talkspace*

*I have not received services from either of these organizations.  A rule of thumb with therapy is to talk to therapists and see which one you vibe with best (just like dating)

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What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word watermelon?  Delicious fruit?  For me, the answer depends on the company I keep.  You see, deep down, I don’t like to eat watermelon in front of white people.  Sometimes, I do it anyway to address and overcome my discomfort.  I know we’re just talking about a piece of fruit, but the only time I feel “safe” eating watermelon in public is around other black people.  I’m not the only one. I have a friend who is disgusted every time he sees a black person eating watermelon in “mixed company.”I have friends who tell me they would never wear my T-shirt that has a bunch of mini watermelons on it because they don’t want to be a walking stereotype.

We all know the stereotype, right?  Black people love watermelon.

For most of my life, I wondered why black people were singled out as having affection for a piece of fruit that is universally loved by all cultures and races.  And then I discovered the answer was, as Kenya Barris would say, “because of slavery.”   Post-emancipation, many black people sold watermelons for a living.  When plantation owners lost their free labor, many became resentful having to witness the freedom that came to black people by way of the watermelon.  Out of indignant spite, spurious images of black people and watermelons became commonplace across the South.  And then blackface.  And then Birth of a Nation. Generations later, this stereotype has moved deep into our social subconscious without its historical context.

On paper, it seems crazy that we’re talking about a piece of fruit.  But something as innocent as a watermelon is a prime example of an enduring truth of life: if you repeat a lie long enough you can get some people to believe it; if you repeat it long enough, people will begin to be affected by it.  And if we’re not conscious enough to acknowledge the origin of a lie, we’ll never achieve true freedom from it.  As a Black woman recently wrote in a Vox article, “I guess I’m not as free as I thought.”

I’d love to hear from any and everyone who has a personal story. Tell me, what is your watermelon story?

For further reading on this topic, please check out How Watermelons Became a Racist Trope

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