It’s a dreary Sunday. I’m listening to my “In My Feelings” playlist on repeat. It’s a thought that I’ve had often over the last week. Why is it so hard to be a Black woman? Why do I feel as if I have to work 10 times harder than non-POCs, even though I’m better than them? Why doesn’t anyone care about Black women?
Every day that I’m alive, I am constantly reminded that I’m different from everyone else. The more I live, the more I realize that it doesn’t matter how well off my family is, how qualified I am, or how many white friends I have… I’ll never have a fair chance.
As a Black woman, I have been overlooked for jobs because of being overqualified. I’ve seen jobs that I applied for be given to people with no experience. I’ve seen people get promoted faster than me, when I’m the one who taught them everything they know. I deal with this every single day. Then, I have to come home and raise Black children. Children who are afraid of being approached by a police officer, because they are afraid that they will be killed.
As a Black woman, I’ve seen my people get disrespected by law enforcement more times than I’d like to admit. I’ve watched multiple times as their lifeless bodies are left on display in the streets. I’ve spent many nights wondering why no one cares about the thousands of missing Black girls in this country, but can find the body and killer of a white woman [and present a bill in her name] within 48 hours. The only thought that comes to mind is why is no one bothering to protect us? Black women are constantly on the forefront of standing up for our people, but no one stands up for us.
I’m tired. It’s sad that Malcolm X’s words still ring true decades later.
The most disrespected person in America is the Black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the Black woman. The most neglected person in America is the Black woman.– Malcolm X