To Be A Black Woman Thriving Unapologetically

In my middle age, I realize I have wasted too much time making others feel comfortable. Comfortable with my brain: Ivy League undergrad then law school; my appearance: striking exterior and beautiful soul; and my talents: cooking, singing, and even creative wordcraft. This combination of qualities is both a blessing and a curse, a double-edged sword. I am not bragging, but stating who I am and what I have achieved.   It takes effort to downplay who I am. Seeming “normal” (whatever that means) is, at best, a draining, very temporary magic trick. The more I succeed at keeping up appearances of being less, the more others are comfortable with me to my detriment. Unfortunately, I have become good at the game. So much so that others forget that I, too, struggle at times and enjoy a mix of good times and, no matter how seldom, also suffer bad times. And yet they talk about their gratitude. My accomplishments and personal qualities are perceived as having a higher, socially-rated value.  This instantly turns their external gratitude into their internal discomfort. Everything they measure makes comfort, by comparison, a constantly fluctuating series of points on a spectrum whose dots don’t connect. How,...