Tag #racism

Featured

The Darkness Was Thick and Suffocating

Warrior Megsie 2 Comments

There are levels of depression that often creep up on you. Yesterday, the darkness was thick and suffocating. It has taken years to learn the signs and triggers of my depression. Even though I know them, I often don’t fully see that I’m in the midst of a depressive spell until 1-2 weeks later.

Aside from unrestful sleeping, a big sign is that my apartment has become unorganized and messy. On the “good days,” everything is in its place. It’s homey, Zen, and full of my personality. I feel it takes longer to recognize the signs of depression when living alone. Before I knew it, clothes and shoes were everywhere. Dishes and mail are piling up, nonperishable items are still in the grocery bags and not put away, and my creative space and workspace are messy.

I had been feeling surface-level depression but could still find motivation and joy until Thursday evening. What happened on Thursday? Unless you live under a rock, then you know about the two Black Democratic legislators, Justin Jones and Justin Pearson, who were expelled from the Tennessee state legislature but not the white woman legislator who protested gun violence along with them. While I wasn’t surprised, another part of my soul cracked. Then I began to wonder what’s the point of existing. What happened in TN Thursday was FULL ON RACISM displayed by the good ‘ole white boys on camera who dared to demean them for “lack of decorum,” especially after a known child molester was never expelled. Their white hoods came in the form of a microphone this time.

That triggering moment pushed me into a deeper depression. It doesn’t matter what we do. Black people will never be good enough, respected, or valued. Our lives don’t matter, and we are reminded of that daily. Then I took my thoughts a step further and how this fully applies to cancerland, too. The number of times I’ve received a comment in private FB cancer groups or openly on social media that “not everything is about race” or “race doesn’t belong in the cancer space.” Yes, I have literally been told this by those of the mayo complexion.

When I woke up yesterday, I couldn’t move. I just sat in the darkness thinking, how am I supposed to go to work, concentrate, and act like nothing is wrong? How do I deal with all the white staff who, more than likely, aren’t even bothered or triggered by what happened in TN? I had an anxiety attack which ended with a full-on migraine. I’d forgotten how painful and debilitating migraines are, and I could barely move for most of the day. I took a sick day. No lights. No sounds. No phone or laptop for hours and hours.

I promised myself last year that I would always put my mental health first after an absolutely devastating work experience in 2021. I set healthy work boundaries where I do not respond to anything when taking a sick or vacation day. I did get highly annoyed that a colleague texted me a work question that was not urgent. Boundaries, people!!!

I emailed my cutie therapist to see if he had time for an emergency virtual session. He made the time. I barely moved all day. The veil of depression was suffocating me and manifesting in the form of a migraine that lasted until around 1am this morning. When I get this way, I can’t function. I’m upset and disappointed that I had to miss a Prince tribute concert with a friend last night. I’d been looking forward to it for about two weeks! I had to put my mental health first.

No amount of antidepressants can heal the cracks in my soul caused by the never-ending barrage of racist rhetoric from TFG and GQP. I can no longer compartmentalize the amount of hate directed toward the Black community for speaking up, demanding to be heard, respected, valued, and then criticized when we succeed.

I have so much more to say, but I will end here for now.

Until next time,

Warrior Megsie

Featured

World Cancer Day and Black History Month 2023

Warrior Megsie 2 Comments

Yesterday was World Cancer Day. I get emotional when I think about my cancer story and how doctors have consistently dismissed my pain and concerns. The thoughts running through my head about cancer and Black History month always make me want to scream in frustration.

We need providers, researchers, employers, friends, and family to

 SEE us

 HEAR us

 BELIEVE us

 RESPECT us

Going through cancer takes a HUGE toll on every aspect of our lives. Having to constantly push through barriers, deal with microaggressions from doctors, financial toxicity, career changes, infertility, and so much more is only part of MY story. I know I’m not alone in this.

Becoming an advocate was born out of my experiences and the urgent need to spotlight the issues of access to care and support. Whether you want to hear it or not, RACE, age, and how you sexually identify play an ugly role in trying to be heard and believed. I feel for the Black community, communities of color, the young adult community, and the LGBTQIA community.

Something else I want to spotlight is how I’ve become intolerant of cancer spaces where I am the ONLY Black person in attendance. I used to go to a weekly virtual happy hour that was born during the pandemic in the AYA community. It was something I looked forward to each week. There would be new people of color who joined once but then never came back. 

After the murders of Ahmad Arbery, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and the insurrection, I found it more challenging to be in spaces where I am the only Black person. I couldn’t continue going to virtual happy hours or journaling sessions and chitchatting about Disney characters, food, kids, etc. I felt like this country was on fire, and I had no community to honestly talk about the stress of being Black and how my nervous system was constantly in flight or fight mode, which exacerbated my pain from toxic cancer treatments.

I now understand why there are certain Black-only breast cancer groups. I have yet to find a general cancer Black-only group that’s a mix of men, women, and those whose pronouns are they/them. When I would bring this up in the other groups where I am the only Black person, inevitably, a white person felt the need to recommend “another strong Black person” to me. I shake my head because 1) I don’t need white people to suggest Black people to reach out to, and 2) The Black cancer space is extremely small, and we already know each other or of each other.

I’m tired of having to center whiteness.

I’m tired of not feeling safe to express myself fully.

I’m tired of being the only Black person in the room or on Zoom.

I’m tired of white people sending private messages saying I’m an inspiration but won’t state it publicly.

I always notice the Black people some white organizations ask to take part in specific panels, programs, or be guest speakers are the ones who don’t fully talk about how racism and microaggressions have shaped their cancer experiences. They often give diluted versions of their experiences. I’ve also noticed that I am rarely asked to participate in certain cancer activities when race is on the agenda because I refuse to make the white community comfortable anymore.

The more I learn about Black culture, the more I have begun to stop trying to filter the Black out of myself. I used to pride myself on being the ONLY one in the room. Now, it enrages me. As a Black woman, I don’t have the luxury of talking about trivial things when I see murders of Black people on TV or shot in grocery stores or killed for simply existing.

While I am thankful for the many genuine friends I have in cancerland, I am acutely aware that the majority are white. Being Black has shaped my access to care, access to pain management, and access to community support. It’s like what James Baldwin said in the quote I posted, the more I read, the more I understand.

Until next time,

Warrior Megsie

Featured

Goodbye 2022…and HELLO 2023!

Warrior Megsie 2 Comments

I’M BACK!!! I took a much-needed break in 2022 from blogging regularly, and I really missed it. Though I continued to journal and post some of Megsie’s Musings here and there, I missed this creative process. Thank you to those who took the time to read past posts. 

I can’t believe it is 2023! I’ve been pondering a lot about my life and all the last year’s ups and downs. I often thought I would spontaneously combust from the intense emotions, stress, fear, disappointments, grief, and anger I felt daily. Then out of nowhere, these little miracles, opportunities, and joyous moments would occur and push me back up to do what I needed to do. 

I saw a TikTok by @voiceboxesq last night that truly hit home and made me feel heard. 

  • As a Black woman, I AM TIRED.
  • As a breast cancer survivor, I AM TIRED.
  • As a caregiver, I AM TIRED.

  • As a single woman dealing with chronic pain, I AM TIRED.
  • As a professional working in way too many white spaces, I AM TIRED.
  • As an American citizen, I AM TIRED.

  • TIRED of being everyone’s strength.
  • TIRED of not having room to fully express myself.
  • TIRED of always having to center whiteness.

  • TIRED of the daily trauma for existing in my skin.
  • TIRED of mass shootings of innocent children, Black and LGBTQIA+.
  • TIRED of not feeling safe due to trigger-happy racist police and vigilantes.

I spent most of 2022 working daily on my mental and emotional health. My cutie therapist (my lovely nickname for him) challenged my automatic negative thoughts, which forced me (in a positive way) to determine if those reactive thoughts were rooted in fact or just emotion. He kept me above ground when I felt myself falling into a pit of despair. More importantly, I never had to filter my words. He always validated my feelings and then talked them through with me. 

Amid the stress, anger, and trauma, I incorporated some FUN. Though I wish it were more constant, I had to start somewhere. So, I began to date Atlanta and go to events, restaurants, and places I had always wanted to go to and new ones that some local friends introduced me to. I have no problem going to places by myself. I constantly remain aware of my surroundings. 

I posted a few fun videos with friends and myself on my social media, so go check them out. When I was putting these snapshots together, I realized I did way more than I thought, and my smiles were genuine. 

I FILLED MY CREATIVE CUP by doing the following:

  • I recorded my professional voiceover demo in a studio with my coach in my ear (she was in NY), and the sound engineer was with me. 
  • I took theatre classes at the Alliance Theatre and overcame my fear of chemo brain ruining my ability to memorize and perform scenes. 
  • I met some cancer friends in person at some conferences, and my hair accessories did not disappoint.
  • I was an Extra on a movie set that will be released next year around Christmas.
  • I had fantastic patient advocacy opportunities to be on multiple podcasts and panels.
  • I was featured in Cancer Today full article and CURE magazine’s full article.

It can feel strange and unsettling to have fun and be joyful when many things feel out of control. After all, our democracy is still in peril. There continue to be senseless deaths of people, especially Black people, LGBTQIA+ people, and innocent children, by assault weapons that have no business being legal; plus, the injustice and cruel GOP political stunts and lack of accountability by those in positions of power.

My top priorities for 2023 are the following:

  1. Continue practicing the coping skills I’ve learned through therapy to find joy in a cruel country. The essence of me is zany and joyful.
  2. Put forth an honest effort to NOT eat my stress and sad emotions away and begin taking care of this defective yet still going post-cancer and chronically pained body.
  3. Not allowing imposter syndrome and fear to paralyze me from pursuing dreams of performing, whether on stage, in front of a camera, or behind a microphone. 

Thank all of you for continuing to read my blog and watch my videos, for encouraging and compassionate words, and for amplifying my voice. I read every comment (positive or negative) and every social media post, and I see every retweet or repost.

Until next time,

Warrior Megsie

Featured

A True White Ally

Warrior Megsie 2 Comments

I received You Are Your Best Thing: An Anthology edited by Tarana Burke and Brené Brown and card from my lovely, supportive, and compassionate friend Shannon earlier this week. The Black authors who contributed to this anthology are extraordinary and so raw in sharing their experiences of being Black in this society. It has taken almost the entire week before I had the right headspace to begin reading it.

I feel an avalanche of emotions topple over me after reading the introduction and the first four stories. My head is spinning, tears drying, and heart is still pounding.

I must thank Shannon for sending this to me because it is not something I would’ve bought on my own. To be honest, seeing Brené Brown’s name on it made me hesitant to even open it at first. Once I read the introduction, I appreciated that Brené acknowledged that some Black people would feel this way and she and Tarana addressed the reason for this collaboration and both explained the dynamics of their friendship.

The fact is, Shannon reads my blog, my social media posts, and takes time to check on me and really talk to me about racism and how she’s worked toward acknowledging her own white privilege. She’s heard the brokenness in my voice, has seen the pain and exhaustion on my face, and continues to reassure me that she IS a safe white ally and genuine friend.

She knew I needed a different kind of support and keenly aware that she should not be that person for obvious reasons. I’ve expressed countless times through conversations and through my writing that I don’t have many Black friends and have always struggled with accepting my own Blackness and experiences. It’s what prompted the blog piece I wrote called Mixed Fragility last year. Much of my existence has been where I am the only Black person in the room, in the company, at the table or on the stage.

2020 was a pivotal year for me because it’s the first time I truly began to be afraid to drive alone, live alone, go into the store alone. I also felt a newfound sense of rage and brokenness that differs from all my previous feelings and entered a period of wanting to rise up and express the hurt and confusion I continuously feel for being in this skin.  

I’m about to make another cup of chai tea and read a few more chapters because this is the first time I can honestly fully relate to parts of these Black experiences shared. These Black authors are exceptional, and I can feel a tender pull of togetherness and understanding from their words. I used to think I was the only one who felt such rage, self-hate, and shame.

Through action and from a place of respect, Shannon let me know that she stands firmly by my side as not only a white ally and anti-racist, but also as a genuine friend.

Until next time,

Warrior Megsie