I'm not good, and it's not my fault

There’s pain trapped in my bones. I’m not alone.

I’m not good.  Every image of black death adds to the pain. Every protest is a reminder that none of it has mattered. Taking a knee. Raising a black gloved hand during the singing of the National Anthem. Singing We Shall Overcome or screaming fuck the police – it is never enough.

It is not enough to stop white knees against the neck of Black men and women. We can’t breathe. The only solace is the thought of the ancestors waiting to take our hand to lift us to the other side. The pain of hearing “I see my mama.”

This is the testimony of Black people living in America. We ain’t good. We are tired of nonviolent resistance. We no longer trust the power of white privilege to do the right thing. We have suffered too much – collectively and individually – lessening the promises of white people who claim to have our back.

The testimony is about Black people and their mental health. I’m not good is about my personal grappling to find peace. It is also about our collective mental health. I’m not good because we’re not good. Saying that implies being one step, one word, one more death away from throwing a brick. It doesn’t change anything other than acknowledging being fed up with promises.

This is the testimony of historical pain. Where do you go for treatment? How do you get help when therapeutic models assume the need for introspection, accountability and depression medications to treat historical racism? Are therapist properly trained for this? What white man or woman properly understands the rage of Black people stirred by decades of being dismissed. Can a white therapist help me with that? Will a pill take that pain away? What happens when a Black therapist treats a black patient trapped in the maze of historical pain? The answer, two people in need of another form of treatment.

Do people understand it’s not just the police? Do they understand Black anxiety and depression is the result of systemic racism? It’s not just the actions of white supremacist. It’s more than the image of burning crosses and bodies dangling from trees. It transcends the bad ways of a few bad apples in law enforcement. It’s liberal Karen calling the police on a Black man while walking her dog in a park. It’s liberal Adam dismissing the contribution of a Black woman during a board meeting. It’s what politicians do in assuming white folk intelligence matters more than Black genius when they pimp Black people to support their position.

I’m not good. I’m not good because of the assumptions of white women. I’m not good because of the paternalistic ways of white men determined to tell Black people how to think. I’m not good because of a life undermined by white people who scream Black Lives Matter in public while treating Black people like shit in private.

I’m not good because of white fragility. I’m mentally drained by white tears. My soul is tarnished by the unceasing demand to say, “not all white people.” I’m not good because my, no, our, condition is not our mistake. We have been abused by white privilege. We’re told to get help for our rage because we should be proud to stand for the “Pledge of Allegiance”. Get some help for your internalized rage. It’s not real. Refrain from your obsession with ancient history. We’re told that. It’s not them, it’s you.

I’m not good is a statement affirming the damage of covert racism. It’s a form of racism concealed in the fabric of American society. It’s the unnoticeable arrangement of discrimination that punishes Black people for exposing white power and privilege. It reprimands Black people whenever they attempt to escape. Colin Kaepernick was punished. Jemele Hill, sports journalist for The Atlantic, was forced out at ESPN for sharing her version of truth. Everyday, black people are silenced and punished for challenging white power and privilege. I’m not good because Black success, in America, demands bowing to the demands of white privilege.

I’m not good because I’m fed up with the assumption Black people suffer due to our mistakes. I’m not good because I’m not a mistake. What we carry is pain caused by a system consistently engaged in denigrating Black people for living with rage. We didn’t create this. We need help, but there is no place to receive it.

The insanity we carry is the consequence of watching white people do the same thing – over and over again. This is rage created by centuries of indifference.

Please, don’t make me say not all white people.