KUUMBA: Slowly Making My Way Toward a Healing Space


Please note:  I wrote this post on November 27, 2014 after attending a short portion of the protest at Foley Square.  These were my initial thoughts after seeing and hearing many things that I found very difficult to process.  Since this initial writing, I went to the Millions March for Black Lives and have recognized the many ways that I can have my own personal misgivings become a catalyst for my own activism in the Black Lives Matter movement.  I am very much inspired and many of my feelings of apathy have waned.  What a difference a few days and thousands of people marching can make.  With this in mind, please read my thoughts and think about how you may be impacted by the current narrative and move to action in creating safe spaces for people to live throughout the world.  You can also check out a few of the article links at the end that really provided me some context and a voice to identify with when I was feeling “a certain type of way.”

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I usually have a pretty low level of anxiety.  I usually feel pretty comfortable in my skin.  I usually…

The thing is something has changed. My anxiety has been high.  Super.  Fucking. High.   And I know it’s because of the death, the murder, the confusion, the harassment, the snark, the privilege and the many isms that I deal with everyday.  Usually I block them out.  Usually I am committed to my sanity.  Usually I walk the fine line of love and hate that keeps me focused on my ultimate goal: achieving social justice.

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The problem is I am tired and at this point, feel pretty apathetic.  I am searching, seriously searching for purpose.  It seemed simple.  I would translate science for communities of color and low income.  I would work at the edge of justice, science and advocacy.  But my foundation has been rocked and now I’m trying to find my feet.

I walked toward Foley Square thinking about it.  I walked toward Foley Square thinking about it.  I walked toward Foley Square thinking about it.

I stood in Foley Square watching white faces snap instaphotos of a beautiful black family.   I stood in Foley Square watching white faces snap instaphotos of a beautiful black family.   I stood in Foley Square watching white faces snap instaphotos of a beautiful black family.

I spoke to my friend and held back tears of anxiety. I stared at the police and took deep breathes for relief.  I embraced my friend with a laugh and smile as I conquered what I needed to find we.

I feel confused.  I feel sad.  I feel exhausted.  But most of all I feel like I conquered one small piece to get me closer to WE.

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A few articles/blogs that I found refreshing and imperative for my own healing process.

Remembering Our Names

Black Girl Dangerous

Peace B. Still

ReFlektionary

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~ by travelling womanists on December 31, 2014.

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