This morning, after dropping my daugthers off to school, folding a load of towels, starting another load, and putting on the water for my first cup of coffee, I opened the email that precipated this post.
Originally shared on my facebook page and developed more in depth, I found myself defending the "angry black woman" in this climate of racialized murder, genderized legislation, and economic apartheid wrecking havoc in many of our cities.
Polite conversation would tell me that someone of my caliber of education, experience, and even status (husband's?) should not have had such a public display of emotion.
I almost didn't post it.
One of the things that has been a hallmark of my brand has been my authentcity, vulnerability, transparency, and determination to keep going.
Why change that because I could be worried about what the invisible "others" would think of me.
So, on this day after my youngest son's 21st birthday and the eve before my not-21st-birthday, I ranted.
Angry is being over 40, well educated, black, female, and in a racial apartheid that won't hire you because you are black and female and more educated than the young white female half your age with barely 3 years of experience who is telling you that you need to add more things to your 25+years of Management experience résumé. Angry is being an adjunct professor teaching white students with barely a high school diploma who then run to the department chair because they don't want to write a paper in a junior college level class. Angry is no longer being an adjunct professor as one quietly took the correction from the white female department chair who had some made-up DMgt instead of a real PhD or EdD. Angry is wearing the full suit and white female intimidated because one is dressed while they look like they rolled out of bed. Angry is being told one's naturally coiffed hair is too ethnic. Angry is having one's ideas stolen and seeing them on the store shelf. Angry is being laid off while the less-than-educated white female counterpart who botched the product line still works because their parent was once with the company. Angry is applying for a local job to see a foreign white woman get it and then proceed to haze the children on that job. Angry is watching gatekeepers with your same skincolor not only close the doors behind them but lock them tight so their white masters can see them as the good negro. Angry is giving up over 12 years to nurse back-to-life a child with five incurable chronic illnesses all while one's home is sold for less than it is worth after the corruption of the realtor and banker, moving to a God-forsaken city that is worse than apartheid, and getting a bill for almost $92,000 in students loans than one does not have the hope of paying in one's lifetime. Angry is realizing one will die with that debt and that the system will try to extract it from one's living children who are trying to make their way. Angry is applying and applying for years to be told one is too educated or not educated enough, one is too black, not the right black, or just not white, even though they use other terms like fit. Angry is knowing all this and still fighting for black lives so that ones' children don't have to be in the same position. #worthmorethanyourless