For as long as I can remember, I have carried the weight of my skin like a dense element, a burden that many may not fully grasp. Being Black in America often feels like an immense responsibility, a weight that manifests in various aspects of life.
This weight has been evident during the countless times I have been pulled over by law enforcement under the guise of a “routine check.” I have felt it while being shadowed by security in stores, or while navigating spaces where I was the sole person of color, a sensation that is amplified when occupying a management role. It lingers during job interviews, housing searches, and even in personal relationships.
Moreover, I carry the weight of collective Blackness, feeling the sorrow of injustice before verdicts are ever announced. The names of Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, and Sandra Bland echo in my mind, alongside the countless others lost to indifference. My heart feels heavy when I witness the burning of Colin Kaepernick’s jersey for his peaceful protest, or when I see militarized forces confronting peaceful demonstrators. The juxtaposition of new wealth from legalized marijuana against the backdrop of Black men imprisoned for similar acts is a stark reminder of systemic inequities.
This struggle reverberates through our culture, from the culinary richness to the poetic expressions of pain found in the works of Langston Hughes. The music we create—whether it’s gospel, jazz, rock, or hip-hop—carries a history of conflict and purpose, moving our bodies involuntarily to its rhythm. Yet, there’s an ever-present acknowledgment that, despite our talents, access to opportunities often hinges on the decisions of others.
The toll of systemic inequities is reflected in health disparities affecting people of color, such as diabetes and hypertension. These aren’t merely genetic predispositions but results of relentless stress and adverse living conditions. The weight of Blackness is so profound it can shift tides.
Learning to love one’s identity is a challenging journey that begins early. By the age of five, I had already internalized the lyrics of “The Greatest Love of All.” As a child, I didn’t fully comprehend the significance of this anthem, but now I understand its purpose: to ease the path for future generations. It addresses the mockery of our beauty, the underestimation of our intellect, and the systemic barriers we face.
Yet, despite these struggles, the message I wish to share is that no amount of pride can eliminate the challenges. You can strive to be resilient and perceptive, but the reality remains that the journey is laden with obstacles.
Every February, we observe Black History Month, celebrating the narratives of struggle and triumph. We honor those who fought valiantly, like Dr. King, whose messages are often distilled into palatable quotes while the reality of systemic racism persists.
But today, I choose to celebrate the joy of my identity. I will play music loudly, dance freely, and bask in the warmth of the sun on my skin, reminding myself of the strength of my ancestry. Today, I reject the weight of expectations tied to my skin color. I will honor the legacy of those who came before me by choosing to feel lighter than air, defying gravity and expectations alike.
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In summary, embracing one’s identity amid systemic challenges is a journey of resilience and joy. By collectively acknowledging our history while focusing on the beauty of our culture, we can rise above the burdens of expectation and celebrate the richness of our heritage.