002: ain't no shame in my game.

let's really talk about shame.

I have a very distinct memory of my mama always saying, “Ain’t no shame in my game,” whenever she had a feeling that she was being judged.

growing up, I’d always think of how cool she was while reciting the words…
but, I later realized just how untrue that actually was.
the truth was that she did carry a lot of shame - as many black women do.

but what is shame, anyway?

I mean, being shamed about our…

hair, its’ texture and function.
skin tone, and its’ richness.
body shape, type and size.

and, these are just the outward things.
the things that are seen by the eye.

it’s no wonder how we’ve developed the coping mechanisms associated with deflecting the internal pain that we do actually feel.

I don’t know how old I was when I realized that there was actually another W.E.B. Du Bois stance of ‘two souls, one body’ element being continually adopted by black women - but, I do remember one day coming into a space where I understood how black women had to show up as two people to the world.

but, maybe four based on the intersectionality?

one half is the half of us that is front facing to the world.
you know the side that attempts to show up poised, pulled together, and in deep knowing of what the world has to offer and how to conquer it?

yeah, her.

I think that black women have done the ‘double consciousness’ thing so well, that many of us don’t even realize that we are doing it…

we’re focused on being the smartest person in the room to ensure that we don’t appear lazy, unmotivated, or useless.

we’re focused on looking the most flawless in the room to ensure that we don’t appear unattractive, unkept, or too damn urban.

we’re focused on being the fastest person in the room to ensure that we simply won’t get left behind.

and, behind our constant overworking and overthinking lies what actually pushes us to over perform in the first place.

see, black women actually hear the tone of voice change when they’re being spoken to over a yt counterpart.

we hear how our passion is usually labeled as ‘aggression’.

we also see how any trace of our blackness needs to be quieted down in order to join certain organizations, to earn certain levels of income and so on.

and, although this may sound exhausting - understand that this is only one role that we play…

which brings me to the other half, which is back facing to the mirror.
you know the side that resides inside of your bedroom, where you can rest with your nappy hair, mouth of a sailor, oversleeping, and the state where you actually don’t know the time or state of the world because you’re on DND?

yeah, her.

I think that black women have done the ‘double consciousness’ thing so well, that many of us don’t realize what it does to us when it follows us home…

so much so that many of us can’t really look in the mirror.

because, we’re struggling with having to hide ourselves in the daylight, to later uncloak ourselves behind closed doors at night.

because, we’re struggling with balancing who we are authentically versus who we are being forced to be based on the rulebook.

because, we’re struggling with the misalignment associated with the time we have to be inauthentic versus the amount of time we get to simply be ourselves.

we hear the voices of those who are constantly judging us on the outside while within our four walls.

we also see how costly the erasure of our blackness is when it comes to our physical, spiritual, mental, emotional and financial health.

see, black women understand exactly how to cloak the insecurities because we’ve been conditioned to do so to be able to continue forward…

because, many of us weren’t ‘trained’ to go against the ‘shame’.
because, going against it is somehow too costly…

I watched my mother embody both of the archetypes of black women - both in the workplace and while at home.

and, I vowed to never have to split myself in that way.
because, I felt like the ‘double consciousness’ and its’ consequences were too costly for me.

now, I’m wondering when other black women are going to join the conversation to figure out how more of us can simply stop ‘splitting’.

hasn’t the act alone cost us enough?

stay shameless,
sydney.