On Byron, Jim Crow, and Identities

To all the Black people married to or in long-term relationships with people of pallor, especially Black men, I offer a piece of advice: never love any person or any concept of power and privilege more than you love your people and your identities.

I’m married to a person of pallor. We've been together for almost 16 years. I love her deeply. She is arguably my favorite person in the world. But I could never love her if it was at the behest of my blackness. I could never be with her if our relationship were built on distorting the historical oppression of my people to keep her comfortable with my existence. I have never had to minimize or suppress myself for her. I have watched her learn, unlearn, grow, and stand up against hatred, bigotry, and anti-blackness. That's what any relationship with a person of pallor should be if you're a Black person living in white supremacy.

Any other form of relationship with whiteness poses you and yours a clear and present danger.

Contrary to “popular belief” (”popular belief” meaning melanated folx who seek to curry favor within white supremacist ideology), let me tell you that there are no perks you'll receive from oppressing your people and yourself for the oppressors. The oppressors will never truly accept all of you. They will offer you no safety, defense, power, or privilege in exchange for your services. They will discard you when you no longer serve their purposes and no longer help them look acceptable and community-minded. That's not just speculation - that is history. Undistorted. Clear. Easy to see, established patterns of history with over 400 years of precedents.

To my Black people, I don’t know what self-hatred and generational trauma you carry in your bodies, but I wish you peace, healing, and a better connection with the value of who you are and what your people truly represent. I wish for you to find a love that doesn't have to be tethered to your identities but respects and uplifts them. Love who you love, but always love you and yours first.

Because when you're done acting like a rodent with a built-in bandit mask and the oppressors discard yo’ ass because you no longer serve a purpose, there ain't gonna be no one there who looks like you to help you get back home.

Pepperidge Farms remembers.

[Image description: a picture of U.S. State Representative Byron Donalds speaking to a crowd.]

Image description: a picture of U.S. State Representative Byron Donalds speaking to a crowd.

On Ryan, Diane, and Wishes

As I take a moment to reflect on the week, like I do every Friday, I think about how much I want my people to feel safe, seen, heard, and rested.

I think about Ryan Gainer and how he should still be here if law enforcement officers were taught that the intersection of race and ASD often leads to fatal action at the hands of those claiming to serve and protect. I think about how his family will never be settled. I fear for the next Black person on the spectrum who finds themselves dealing with the police.

I think about Dianne Abbott and how she should be able to speak truth to power without being silenced and diminished by people of pallor who can't fathom the reality that their niceties are neatly packaged hatred. I think about the calls for violence against her life led by a pale millionaire who will likely face no repercussions for his rhetoric.

I sit with all of this and wonder why this is part of the Black existence, this pervasive fear for our lives, livelihood, and safety. Questions pop into my head:

How does it feel to be carefree and never honestly think about your life constantly being on the line for just existing?

What would people of pallor do if they were looking at a lifetime of scrutiny and danger for doing everyday things they take for granted?

What if having a disability increased their chances of being harmed by society because of the melanin in their skin?

Would people of pallor tell the truth about their traumatic experiences at the hands of the so-called dominant class if their lives and livelihood were in danger because of the discomfort those truths caused?

I ask those questions and then check myself because I know these questions never arise for most people of pallor. I know they never put themselves in our shoes; even if they did, they'd complain about the fit.

I wish Black lives and safety weren't a novelty.

I wish we could rest with a deep, whole-body rest that allows our bodies and brains to cry, exhale, and cry some more until we feel less weary.

I wish for things I'll never see in my lifetime, but that doesn't mean I'll stop wishing.

I want my people to feel safe, seen, heard, and rested.

I know that's too much to ask for in a world fueled by white supremacy.

[Image description: Two images. The first picture is of a young Black man from California named Ryan Gainer. He can be seen smiling at the camera while standing in a parking lot. The second picture is of a Black woman named Diane Abbott. She was the first Black woman elected to the British Parliament. She is seen smiling at the camera.]

Image description: a quartet of images depicting a woman of pallor looking confused and contemplative. Around the woman's head is a series of algebraic and geometric equations floating in the ether. The images are accompanied by the caption, "People who quoted and misquoted the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., on Monday, doing the math on how many days after MLK Day they have to wait before going back to being openly oppressive, anti-Black, and racist."

Some of y'all couldn't even make it 24 hours before y'all devolved back to your regular forms.

[Image description: a quartet of images depicting a woman of pallor looking confused and contemplative. Around the woman's head is a series of algebraic and geometric equations floating in the ether. The images are accompanied by the caption, "People who quoted and misquoted the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., on Monday, doing the math on how many days after MLK Day they have to wait before going back to being openly oppressive, anti-Black, and racist."]

On Work, Safe Places, Safer Places, and White Supremacist Workplace Culture

I am 41 years old and have never felt safe in a workplace.

I have held down a job in some capacity since I was 13 years old, and I have yet to work in an environment where I’ve felt safe.

Not safe. Not safer. Nothing.

I have yet to inhabit a workplace where I feel safe, hell, safer, and can share an opinion or viewpoint contrary to what white societal norms deem acceptable and not have the sword of Damocles swinging over my head.

I have yet to inhabit a workplace where I feel safe, hell, safer, enough not to have to make sure I’m carefully wording my counsel and advice to others in ways that will not have anyone calling me racist to white people or “unwilling to understand what white people are going through.”

I have yet to inhabit a workplace where I feel safe, hell, safer, enough to do the work that I went and obtained student loans and a degree for in a way that centers the humanity and mental, physical, and emotional well-being of others and challenges leaders to lead with empathy without having one or all members of the senior leadership team question my skillset or “fit” for “their” organization.

I have yet to inhabit a workplace where I see other melanated, under-represented, unserved communities feel safe, hell, safer, enough to seek support when they are being harmed, they’re witnessing someone being hurt, or their needs aren’t being met without someone asserting they are “trying to stir the pot” or being told that they are the issue, not the workplace culture.

I have yet to inhabit a workplace where I feel safe, hell, safer, around the idea that accountability is expected of everyone, not just those impacted by not having power, privilege, positionality, and proximity to or assimilation of white supremacist hierarchal ideology.

I have yet to inhabit a workplace where I feel like I’m doing anything but putting together survival plans and trying to make it to Friday.

Before the white “professionals” and those who covet the comfort and faux safety of white supremacist ideology chime in with their advice, I want to let you know that I’ve heard your advice, often unsolicited, since I’ve been a part of the workforce. It is always centered around assimilation or options with a history of not benefiting the melanated and marginalized. So, I’ll pass. I’ll also pass on the notion that, somehow, I’m the reason I don’t feel safer in the workplace, like my existence and unwillingness to sit idly by and allow myself or others to be harmed in “the problem.” I’m not “the problem.” People who look like me, talk like me, and bring their embodied identities to work like me are not “the problem.”

“The problem” is the systems and structures of whiteness created as the foundations of work that present us with the boxes we’re forced to fit into.

”The problem” is that so many people do not feel safe, hell, safer, anywhere, yet we have to get up every day, try to earn a living, and survive in another space where we cannot rely on safety and stability.

At 21, I began understanding that workplace culture in the United States works as designed.

At 31, I intimately understood that workplaces were not designed for someone like me.

At 41, I firmly understand that I will never inhabit a space designed for someone like me.

And I know that if I want any form of safety, it will be up to me to build it because I will never work anywhere that will dismantle or create a new design because of the whiteness-driven revolt that would ensue.

Challenge accepted.

On Nat, Magical Girls, and the Intersection of Justice

Sometimes, my energy is magical girl energy.

Sometimes, my energy is Nat Turner energy.

Either way, understand that justice is always at the center of who I am.

Also understand that you do not wanna come around me with hate and bigotry and catch me on a day where the Nat Turner in me pulls out his Sailor Scout wand to dispatch you and your ugliness.

Believe that.