To be loved by a Black woman is to be loved by an eternal source of joy, creation, and stimulation. Her love is as endless as the sea. Her eyes are the gatekeepers to a whimsical wonderland, flush with the aroma of your favorite meal and memories. Her aura shines as bright as the morning sun. Her warm embrace can soothe the most rugged and wretched corners of our inner selves. She can make time stand still with a simple glance. Have you ever honestly peered into her eyes and bore witness to all she is, all she was, all she had to and continues to endure just to be in her skin, to live and love as a Black woman?
A day before an angry white mob of insurrectionists laid siege to the U.S. Capitol, "Rosewood" was one of the trending topics on my Twitter's "For You" page. I did not feel compelled to click on the hashtag because I wanted to avoid what Rosewood represents.
A week removed from the latest episode in America's coddling of unbridled whiteness, the parallels between my opting out of the Rosewood hashtag and America's penchant for opting out of its history of racial terror were jarring. America's deliberate reluctance to engage with its ghastly past and its complicitous behavior in solidarity with white mob violence have enduring consequences. Last Wednesday's attempted coup was simply the latest evidence of what endures when a country intentionally ignores its ugliest origins.
It is far easier believing in the worst parts of myself than the best. Despite the plaudits from my most trusted confidants and complete strangers, I struggled daily, believing in what I am and what I am here to do. I have resided and even quarantined in those dark spaces of the mind where light never visits. For decades, my most intimate thoughts drove me further away from light and love, ultimately colliding with the ruse that was my public persona. No one knows we are living a lie because we often lie to ourselves first to convince the rest of the world everything is okay.
I felt compelled to share this part of my life with you for several reasons, none more salient than hopefully encouraging those who may be struggling with securing employment right now. I want to remind you that you aren't alone in this uphill battle, and you will be victorious. I know this to be true not because it happened to me, but because of the lessons I learned while struggling to stay afloat.
While data only tell one part of the story and we know that many BYMOC do have caring, committed adults in their lives, it is worthwhile to note that many do not have access to a vibrant web of intentional guidance and support at an age when their adult identities, experiences, and skills are developing. Thus, many BYMOC face an uncertain transition to adulthood. Mentoring can be one of their pathways to success, helping them successfully navigate the transition from school to work and from childhood to adulthood.
