op-ed: “i’ll be a happy black man” – how to work on happiness when we have every reason to be angry

Because we already have too many stereotypes of angry, aggressive black men. Because we have too many stereotypes of angry, aggressive black anyone. Because I know why we are angry and I refuse to let that define and control me. Because I realize that by playing the role they assume I am, it’s just going to prove their point. Because that knee-jerk reaction is exactly what trolls, both on or off the computer, want.

Because it seems like from day one, we were taught that being emotional was a bad thing, a childish thing, an unattractive thing. Because emotion means more than just pure anger, but sadness, happiness, and even that of affection. Because I realized from this that nothing scares the living shit out of weird people than seeing someone that is supposed to be angry be so positive. Because I know that constant anger over everything will be detrimental to my health, and would possibly kill me anyway. Because I realize when I smile with no fear, I become a walking revolution.

Because I have been miserable before about everything, and I don’t want to go back. Because I know what it feels like to feel small. Because I refuse to let people try to convince me that I am such. Because I am sick of people not looking at us with the same respect we look to them for. Because I am sick to death of seeing how negative, wretched people influence our own young. Because I am sick of people thinking that being human is being gay. Because I am no longer afraid to stand out using my emotions to propel me forward. Because a smile or a frown without emotion is nothing but fake posturing. Because I learned how to let any of my fears or anxieties motivate me, rather than let it hold me back. 

Because for better or worse, this is me for life. Because for better or worse, I am a pansexual black male for life. Because I have kinks, and I am working on them. Because I want you to feel this way, too.

Because I could be angry about the next white person who wants to shoot me, but then again there is another black person who will, too; thus, seeing as how it is my life that I’m living, how I die is no one’s choice but mine. Because when I see people march during the #BLACKLIVESMATTER movement, for a while it makes me feel like black people actually do care about my life. Because I know that people who stand with those types don’t care, but it doesn’t affect me. Because even though I may not have everything I want, I appreciate my life anyway. Because I know this is not a dream. Because if the FCC surveillance camera watches me tomorrow on my way to work, I will smile at the thought of pissing them off by showing that all of the bullshit I’ve been through wasn’t strong enough to crush me. Because I hope the smile infects anybody who is sick of working for the surveillance company.

Because I’m at a point in my life where I couldn’t give a square root of a single flying fuck about what you think about who I am, how weird I am, how I should be or anything like that. Because I have seen despair crush one of the greatest and/or most beautiful potential minds and turn them into monsters. Because I am been that monster once or twice, and it sucks. Because I am well aware that constant resentment and constant reminders of those who have wronged me will eventually turn me into a sociopath of epic proportions. Because nothing saved me from one day taking my own life more than a fearless smile.

Because I know that police disrespect simple procedure and try to kill us out of jealousy. Because regardless of racism being more prominent, it seems like we have an upper hand more than ever. Because it seems like for a while, some of us are waking up. Because we have a voice, and some people actually wish to hear it. Because those who don’t want to hear it should never have appeared on the page of this article. Because I have been through a handful of racist situations, but I know that they will pay for their stupidity in the end. Because I am thankful for all of those who didn’t judge me out loud when I do little things as attend folk or rock shows or fetch a glass of orange juice from the convenience store.

Because regardless of the hundred sextillion reasons as to why we should be affected, it hadn’t broken me. Because I have been dissed and had miserable people attempt to break me down, and I found that their misery only doubled the moment that I left their place. Because I somehow learned how to use what anger I have and turn it into love, passion, truth, and all other things that the most wretched of people hate to see on me. Because I have a proper outlet for it all. Because if no matter what I do, I’m seen as a threat, then I would definitely like to be a happy threat.

Because someone loves me. Because I am loved. Because I am a lucky person. Because I have friends. Because I have family. Because I hopefully have you. Because I have options, and I’m choosing as wisely as possible. Because regardless of where I am and how shitty the place may be, at least I’m still here. Because if I don’t work at some form of happiness, I know that one day I’ll go insane just thinking about everything I may have coming my way because of my skin and I will be plotting ways to dodge it. Because I know that it is no way to live.

Because I’m a man. Because I am a black man. Because there are many people just like me. Because there isn’t a gotdamn thing you can do about that.