I’m Not Okay
Struggling With Depression And Anxiety Amidst The Pandemic, Police Brutality, And Social Unrest
This Moment
I am traumatized, and I am grieving. In the wake of the killings of Ahmaud Abery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd (which have occurred amidst a global pandemic) — I…just…can’t right now.
My ancestors were in this country (against their will) long before the ancestors of many of my fellow Americans. Their unpaid, forced labor under the most brutal and inhumane of conditions imaginable contributed to the growth and wealth of this nation. I’ve had family members who have served honorably in the military. I pay taxes, serve jury duty, and vote in every election. This land is my land just as much as it is for any other American (if not more so).
And yet…
We continue to see videos — snuff films, really — of the extrajudicial execution of black people. The very police departments our tax dollars support manufacture excuses like fearing for their lives to justify taking the lives of unarmed black men, women, and children. Historically, these killings aren’t new.
My mind has been locked in a spiral of dread as I look in the face of my sweet son who recently turned 10 year-old. As each birthday comes and goes, I wonder how much longer society will see him as cute. How long until they begin viewing him with fear? How long until someone sees his life as expendable? What is the cursed age or size at which law enforcement or vigilantes will begin to think of him as menacing (e.g., 12 year old Tamir Rice or 17 year old Trayvon Martin)? Despite having two college-educated, professional parents and living in the suburbs, I still have the heartbreaking responsibility of disabusing him of what he’s been taught in school — that police officers can always be counted upon to be “helpers” in the community.
Though I try to distinguish between well-meaning officers and the often corrupting and racist institution of policing, the injustice of police brutality is laid bare before him. Camera phones and police body cams continue to serve this violence to us in high definition, yet the families of the victims rarely receive justice. There’s no way to sugarcoat the unprovoked attacks on peaceful protesters and members of the media nor the overreaction to protesters' righteous anger.
Why This Moment Is So Fraught?
All of this trauma is occurring in the midst of the most impactful pandemic in over 100 years — the COVID-19 outbreak.
We’re worried about the health of our parents and grandparents and those with compromised immunity. Grocery stores have bare shelves. Unemployment is sky high. Children spent the last months of the school year at home, struggling to adjust to learning online (assuming they had sufficient internet connectivity). The “new normal” is anything but.
On top of that general level of anxiety and stress, my industry is considered “essential”. So, when Maryland, my home state, issued stay-at-home orders, my employer sent us all letters stating that we were permitted to travel to and from work. We were told to just show that to law enforcement officers if we were stopped for being out and about.
That, my lovelies, is white privilege at it’s finest. I’m positive it never occurred to the company’s leadership that what might be a minor inconvenience at most — being stopped by officers — could be panic-inducing for me and other employees of color. Reaching for the requested documentation could mean the end of my life as it did for Philando Castille.
Disingenuous, bad faith arguments would have you believe that #BlackLivesMatter is a racist and anti law enforcement movement and that black people are irrational in our wariness of cops. I’m not being hysterical in my fears, because black Americans are twice as likely to be shot and killed by police as whites. In fact, in Minneapolis (where George Floyd was killed), police are seven times more likely to use force against black residents than against white residents — SEVEN TIMES.
If you’ve heard of “driving while black", you know that the police are more likely to stop black people. They are more likely to use force against black people, and that use of force is more likely to end in death for black people.
So…
No, I’m not okay. I’m not sleeping well. My anxiety has been creeping higher and I’ve been slowly sliding into depression. I struggled to get my kids to complete their online school assignments since the lack of interaction with teachers and classmates was mind-numbing. We’re all stress eating. I haven’t been able to hug my parents in months.
Watching the news or interacting via social media simultaneously helps me feel connected and fuels my nightmares. When I see some non-black people deciding to “take a break” for the benefit of their mental health, I’m ambivalent, frankly. I don’t begrudge anyone the time and space for self-care, but I’m also jealous and angry. Turning off the fire hose of media won’t make me and children any safer when we leave the house. We can’t just lay down the heavy burdens of injustice or shed our skin when it’s convenient.
So, my 15 year old and I attended a local march in Columbia, Maryland. Seeing our diverse community come out in support of black lives and acknowledging the lived experience of their neighbors was beautiful. Knowing that young people organize and lead the march gave me hope. Seeing families walking together, faces masked and signs raised was the kind of self-care I wasn’t even aware I needed.
I’m grateful that none of my non-black circle have contacted me out of the blue to ask if I’m okay or put the burden on me to educate them about racism and the black experience. (Yes, that’s apparently a thing for some poor, beleaguered souls.) Just getting out of bed is a daily struggle, so being expected to assuage white guilt and assure them they’re “one of the good ones” would have really pushed me beyond my breaking point.
So what has been helpful?
- Noticing on GoodReads that non-black friends are choosing to read about antiracism and police brutality.
- Seeing allies counter racist stereotypes and tropes in online conversations.
- Watching allies who are willing to amplify the voices of black people rather than centering themselves in the discussion (i.e., sharing the experiences of black people rather than whitesplaining about the good cops they know or the positive experiences they’ve had).
So no, I’m still not okay. However, I’m encouraged by the following quotation:
“I have walked that long road to freedom. I have tried not to falter; I have made missteps along the way. But I have discovered the secret that after climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb. I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of the glorious vista that surrounds me, to look back on the distance I have come. But I can only rest for a moment, for with freedom come responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not ended.” ~ Nelson Mandela
