PHOTOGRAPHY // TRACEY MARTIN
Remember how I wrote that 2020 was the year I owned my power and I didn’t know what was next?
Well, the thing about owning your power is that whether you realize it, you’ve already evolved. If you’re lucky, that change is beyond what you thought was possible for yourself. More often than not, though, it’s past the comfort zone of how others view you. And that is where the problem starts.
At least, that was true for me in 2021.
If you know me in real life, you know that I don’t back down. I’m always up for a good fight.
But.
As a Black woman, there are some fights I will never win. The system wasn’t designed for such victory.
My Experience
I have paperwork that mandate I tread lightly here so that’s what I’ll do. What I will say, is that 2021 tested and tried me over and over again. At a time where most are afforded compassion, my trauma was twisted into toxicity. Boundaries that I set to protect my broken heart and mental health were reduced to bullying. It became clear that I didn’t have the privilege to draw a line to who has access to me. And I definitely didn’t have the power to dictate who could tap into to my skills and talent. The kicker, though, is that for the entire year, I had to fight (read: beg) for a seat at a table. A table that I not only earned, deserved, but quite frankly, built.
But such is the life of a Black woman in corporate America. And if it wasn’t for people who recognized that struggle, I would not have made it through 2021.
My Allies
When I say people showed up for me…my God. People I didn’t even know were watching pulled rank to get me out of an inequitable situation. People leveraged their power so that I could have a slither of it with the ear and eye of others in power. Friends spoke my name in rooms that I wasn’t invited to in effort to ensure I wasn’t overlooked in their absence. And when sh*t hit the fan, friends hijacked the system so that I could have peace and time to heal.
I have always wondered who cares for the strong when the burden is too heavy to bare. Who continues to fight when the strong is ready to tap out? Who fills up the vessel when the well the strong pour from daily is bone dry?
Y’all, 2021, I received my answers.
People showed up for me in big and small ways. The very thought of it brings tears to my eyes. I’m talking text messages, voicemails, and weekly check-ins. For. Months. For some, those small actions are nothing to celebrate. But if don’t nobody else understand the impact of those gestures, I know y’all do.
The Impact of Non-Performative Allyship
For the first time in a long time, I didn’t have to be a strong Black woman. I wasn’t forced to carry the burden all by myself. My friends gave me permission to say, “I’m not okay.” With unwavering understanding, I was able to be vulnerable and not feel the need to be “on” all the time. I was able to be soft, loud, bitter, and yes, even angry. And nobody flinched. Now you know, like I know, Black women are not afforded that kind of grace.
Yet, I was.
Little ole me. Yaszy. The girl who used to be so scared to speak her mind, she had to write letters. Now, she’s the woman who speaks with her whole entire face, hands and neck, too. And it doesn’t matter who she’s talking to, if it doesn’t make sense, she’s going to call you out on it. Or, find someone else who can provide clarity. That’s me.
Yet, I was given grace.
I could say that it’s a testament to my character. I could say that it’s a testament to who I am as a friend. I could also say it’s a testament to my work ethic. But, those things, even if true, they are only the partial truth.
The Lesson I Learned
What 2021 taught me is that there’s room for me. All of me. The charming version of myself is welcome, of course. But, so are my vulnerable, sometimes weak, broken, scratch that, bent parts.
In a matter of months, I went from “the woman you have to meet” to “difficult” and “toxic.” So, why shrink now? Why tone down my confidence to make others feel empowered? Why downplay my brilliance to compensate for others’ mediocrity. Why?
Nah.
When I look back on the year, I’m proud that I remained true to myself. That I stood in that truth and called bullsh*t when it came to my worth (and my work).
But the biggest lesson is that I need to allow others to show up for me when I’m unable to do it for myself. Because of my relationships, I was able to better withstand everything 2021 threw my way. And believe me, last year was A LOT.
It tested me, my patience and sanity daily. The fact that I’m still standing and pushing forward is beyond me to be honest. But, I say this with zero exaggeration, I have never ever felt more protected and cared for than I did in 2021.
So, despite the anger, pain, frustration and loss, that makes 2021 worth celebrating. After all, there’s no testimony without a test.
