My parents were devout Christians – I was constantly questioning religion and its validity. They recognized my rebellious spirit promptly after exiting the womb. They sent me to a church school to keep me from straying from ‘the way, the truth, and the light.’
I attended a predominately white Christian school throughout elementary. I should mention an abusive one at that. In first grade, my teacher would hit her son with a wooden paddle in front of the class if he didn’t finish his lunch. It was a brutal thing to witness. I didn’t understand a religion based on love could foster so much violence and prejudice.
During school, church and social events, I could feel that I was treated differently. I just didn’t understand why.
I had not yet collected the knowledge to grasp the cruel indifferences people had towards others regarding the skin they were born in.
In 5th grade, we had a lesson on Harriet Tubman, the underground railroad and the history of slavery in America (a heavy topic in my opinion to be teaching to 10-year-olds who just grasped how to tie their own shoes.) After our lesson, we went into recess and I was playing with legos and this little boy who happened to be white said, “you have to give me your legos because I own you.” From his perspective it came down to “the teacher just told me that white people own black people, so these are MY legos.”
From what he’d been taught, white people were superior.
I remember distinctly how my view of the world changed and people’s skin became illuminated.
On another occasion in 7th grade, a black girl jumped me in the hallway, throwing her fists into my chest with all her might until they pulled her off me and escorted us to the principal’s office – tears ran down my face, I was confused on why it went down in the first place. I had no issue with this fellow classmate or so I thought. Our principal who happened to be a black woman asked her motive behind her actions and her response was – ‘She doesn’t talk like me, she sounds like a white girl when she speaks and I don’t like it.’
I had many other situations similar to these ones as I grew older that left me feeling isolated from both of the races my DNA was made up of. At the time, I decided I belonged to neither. I belonged to myself and I was made of many colors.
We are products of who we are raised by and what society teaches us, but we ultimately learn through our experiences.
As I grew older and reached high school, I had an array of friends that were mostly outcast theatre nerds, musicians, or beach rats. Looking back it wasn’t as many people of color that I now wish I encompassed myself with. My interest was in the soul rather than the body. Getting high was incredible and I loved to learn about the history of LSD and other psychoactive drugs. I was enchanted with leaving my body with the aid of these substances. I was on my own journey and at the time there weren’t a lot of people of color in my area that had a similar interest. In my eyes, it wasn’t about being a part of a community based off of skin color, it was about better understanding myself and the intricacies of the human condition.
I didn’t grow up surrounded by that black love that I now desire so much.
Was I put down and made to believe I couldn’t obtain black female friends? I’ve asked myself why I don’t have more than three black women in my life other than my Aunties and cousins who I love dearly. Sometimes you have to ask yourself uncomfortable questions, even if there is no ill intention behind these outcomes. I am a woman who is mixed race but on behalf of the world, I am a black woman- and damn, it feels good to say that. After the work I have put into my mind and soul I am now reveling in the body that is the temple that holds these entities. I have to be ok with the fact that sometimes I will make the wrong decision or call.
Sometimes I’ll have to ask myself the hard questions: Am I a product of white supremacy? How much privilege do I carry?
I’ve felt guilt for not being more involved in the black community. But I can’t have this guilt. I am here and am choosing to understand my role in all of this. It’s a process.
I’m making a conscious decision on every level. I’m going to engulf myself in everything, while always holding onto who I truly am. It’s also taken time to understand how much of the other side I was carrying upon my shoulders. It’s as if I’d experienced it but didn’t know how to define it and am only now processing how it has affected my life. Yet there is empowerment in acknowledging the pain I’ve carried. Now I know how I will stick up for and guide myself through these blocks that surround me.
I’ve come to a point where if I’m faced with racism or prejudice acts I don’t give a shit if the person is pissed off or uncomfortable when calling them out. I’m gonna tell them exactly what I’m feeling. My hope is to have them take a step back and think about the ignorant thing they just said because, while it may not have been intentional, they have to recognize the impact of their words and actions before we can move forward. Hold your tongue, listen, think and then speak.
In the end, it comes down to treating each other as humans. Having conversations that move past fear and the walls we have built around ourselves.
Through these conversations and the healing that’s taken place within myself, I’ve realized that I’ve felt most misconstrued when I am trying to express myself as an artist. The rock and roll world has put me through the ringer and I’ve experienced countless instances of people being assholes to me because they think I can’t play or sing because I have no desire to put up a front. I’ve had to prove it to them. It’s hard to have this voice inside of yourself that tells you you aren’t enough because of what the outside world has brought down upon you.
Society doesn’t believe that black women can be deep, divine artists with many dazzling layers.
Right now it’s predominantly white males in the rock community and beautiful, expressive women feel like they don’t belong. I can’t seem to think of what’s more punk rock than women, especially those who are oppressed. Black little girls and boys who grew up in less fortunate situations all stemming from systemic racism haven’t been given the opportunity to tap into the more artistic, vulnerable, free, creative parts of themselves.
Black women in particular are taught, “don’t be too loud, don’t be too emotional, calm down, don’t be angry,” when those are ALL the things that fuel real impactful art.
Our black, feminine pain is embedded in our bones.
And because I’m empathic, I sympathize deeply and want to be a reflection of everyone. I notice that people are coming to me in search of themselves and because of this, I want to be the brightest I can be.
Maybe this is my superpower, to be my truest self while also holding space so that somebody else has the courage to grow into who they truly are and embody it with every inch of their soul.
When I think of my identity, I think it’s everyone and everything. I can’t put my finger on it exactly, but I see it as a representation of the entire Universe. My identity is a mirror of all of us. I know who I am, but it’s not one-dimensional. My moods change, but I never feel astray from my spirit. And right now my greatest mission is to connect to that part of myself I’ve ignored for too long.
I’m searching for that deepness that black women own. It’s an abyss that reminds me of the ocean and of space – profound, thick, mysterious, strong and beautiful.
Make sure to FOLLOW Jewlz on Instagram and check out her band – Dirty Princess. seriously, do it.
How powerful would it be, if we could share what being black means through our eyes?
If instead of educating and lecturing other people, we could let them in in our lives, share our struggles, fears, and joy, while raise awareness about our identities?
Our vulnerability and rawness are much more powerful than us teaching you about racism. You can walk in our shoes and learn about the emotional response your actions might have caused.
This is the idea behind “Identities”. A bi-weekly series where real humans will share real human stories.
Check our intro post to find out more about this project and, if you wanna write for us, check this post! We will be opening soon to other identities ❤
One Response
I wondered where you are
Interesting read