On Melanated Olympics for Survival and the Responses of Pallor

I don’t think people of pallor understand or grasp the intricacies of the mental, emotional, and linguistic gymnastics that most melanated people, most Black and Brown folx, most Native and Indigenous folx, and all Black women and femmes engage in to maintain employment and stay safe in communities and workplaces of pallor. I’m talking about Olympic gold medal-level sh—.

“But Pharoah, I underst - - “

No. No you don’t.

“Really, Pharoah. I think I get it - - “

Nope.

“I’ve read about - -“

Oh, no boo-boo. You don’t want to say that.

“But - -“

Shhhh. Less talking and defending yourself and more acknowledging your complacency and participation in white supremacist culture.

Ain’t nobody got time for your Olympic-level deflection and defensiveness.

Listen. Learn. Disrupt. Own your actions and words.

We’re tired of medaling.

[Image description: A picture of the rapper Mase. He is looking at the viewer while holding his left pointer finger up in front of his mouth, essentially making the universal gesture for remaining silent.]

Image description: A picture of the rapper Mase. He is looking at the viewer while holding his left pointer finger up in front of his mouth, essentially making the universal gesture for remaining silent.

Joy

I'm not going to sit here and say things like, "Everything's gonna be alright," while the world is literally and figuratively burning because I think that's a lie. Everything is not alright and hasn't been alright for a long time. I think many of us know this, and our families have carried this trauma for generations. So many of us are fighting for a better, safer world, much like our ancestors were, and we're feeling the weight of it all like our ancestors did.

None of that means we can't have joy.

None of that means we shouldn't love our families and communities and continue celebrating and elevating our people.

There's still a lot of life to live.

I get it. It feels heavy. In these trying times, joy might even seem like a privilege. But joy is not a privilege - it's a right. You have the right to love life, your people, and all the positives and happiness triggers in your life.

It's not easy to find joy when the world seems dim, but we owe it to ourselves to seek out and embrace the things that bring us joy. We owe it to our families to model how there's still joy and wonder in this world to engage with. Unbridled joy is one of the many things that stop us from mentally, physically, and emotionally breaking under the weight of our oppressors. Joy is fuel to fight for the things you believe in and the people you love. Joy is protest. Joy is rest.

The possible future ahead of us could try to take many things from many of us. Please do everything you can not to let it take your sunshine.

Embrace joy.

I feel honored to participate in this year's One Minute for Mental Health campaign as part of Mental Health Awareness Month!

Anyone who knows me personally or follows my work knows how much mental health is a central part of my life. I feel fortunate to have the opportunity to share that message within this platform.

Thank you to Lizzie Schooler and Reggie Wideman for the opportunity to talk about something many of us grapple with and encounter daily: feeling like we have to say we're OK when we're far from it.

Please feel free to share your thoughts below. Let's talk about it!

On Normalizing a New Normal

Normalize walking away from people and relationships that do not energize, elevate, comfort, or support you, your trauma, and your healing how you need them to.

Normalize walking away from people and relationships that let it be known, blatantly or subtly, that your focusing on your health and well-being is somehow an affront to their toxicity and how they want to use your shoulders to carry their trauma.

Normalize the understanding that blood may be thicker than water, but they are both liquids with the power to drown you, body and soul, and you deserve to remain undrowned.

Normalize that there is a thin line between codependence and helping and supporting those you love and that the line is so thin because, for many of us, it is a taut thread of generational and societal trauma that our families and friends are scared to tug on lest it unravels and leave us to face our traumas raw and unfiltered.

Normalize embodying that you are enough and deserve to rest, heal, and be surrounded by supportive people who care about you and your needs.

Normalize that all of the above-mentioned are not selfish thoughts.

Normalize a new normal.

We all deserve that.

On tWitch, Trauma, and Being a Black Man in Peril

Image description: a picture of Stephen "tWitch" Boss. He is wearing a yellow beanie and a red and green plaid shirt with rolled sleeves. He is smiling at the viewer.

TW: Discussion around suicide and Black trauma.

With the passing of Stephen "tWitch" Boss, I found myself thinking again this morning about the weight many Black men carry in their brains and bodies.

I think about depression, anxiety, and how Black men and Black bodies have been conditioned to "just deal." In concept and conversation, I'm reflecting on the taboo treatment of mental health in many Black communities. I'm thinking of how my family scoffed at me when I brought up my struggles with depression as a teenager and adult. I think about how I was a functional alcoholic from 15 to my early twenties to dull the pain of feeling inadequate and unable to help my family rise from poverty. I look back on how my family and parents reacted when I mentioned one or all of my siblings possibly struggling with depression and anxiety. I find myself in my teens again, watching my father block out his depression and childhood trauma with gambling and alcohol. I reflect on how my father was in a near-constant state of unhappiness for most of my childhood and adult life and finding out about his decades of drug abuse a few years ago. And while mulling over all of these things, I can't help but wonder how many Black men might still be here if our community cultures didn't deter Black men from being vulnerable and more open to taking care of themselves and asking for help.

I wish being a Black man could include being a human being grappling with your trauma and emotions and seeking help and support from other Black people without being looked down on and being called a "sissy" or "punk."

I wish being a Black man didn't come with the spoken and unspoken shackles of "just deal" ideologies.

I wish being a Black man came with the option to believe in self-care and therapy and talk about it out loud to show other Black men, Black people, that you don't have to be afraid of being a multi-layered being.

I wish being a Black man didn't come with so many ingrained and societally-driven ways to die.

To my fellow Black men: it's OK not to be OK. It's OK not to "be hard" and walk around with a facade masking your pain and trauma. It's OK to ask for help. It's OK to prioritize your mental and emotional health. It's OK to be vulnerable and open and honest. It's OK to believe that you deserve to feel better because you do deserve it.

If you need help, please do not hesitate to seek help. Go to https://www.sprc.org/populations/blacks-african-americans for resources and information. Call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-TALK (8255) or text the Crisis Text Line at 741741. Find a Black therapist in your area at https://www.psychologytoday.com/us and schedule an appointment as soon as possible. Get the help you deserve. Your life and health matter.

Black Mental Health Matters.

Rest well, tWitch. Rest well.

[Image description: a picture of Stephen "tWitch" Boss. He is wearing a yellow beanie and a red and green plaid shirt with rolled sleeves. He is smiling at the viewer.]