art hoe collective: self care in the black community in the midst of all this anti-black violence

The pain that we, as a community, feel with each black person murdered isn’t new by any stretch of the imagination. Racism, manifesting in various ways, has been a truth that we’ve had to live with for centuries. Black American communities mobilized and fought back with the civil rights movement and the Black Panthers, but unsurprisingly we were beaten into submission. In the decades that followed, Black people have been silenced and told – often convincingly – that everything has been made better, fixed, perfected. This generation – our generation – was raised primarily in an overarching, falsely founded state of “colourblindness”, where our experiences are ignored, our calls against discrimination are rejected outright. And believe me when I say our oppressors are happy with this. Our claims were easily refuted because we no longer had a firm call for justice to collectively stand behind. There were no eyes on our oppression, no vocabulary to explain our discomfort, no language to speak on the dangers of micro aggressions, no platforms on which to display macro aggressions, and no way to spread information amongst ourselves.

Maybe this made our oppressors too complacent, but they made a mistake – underestimating how deep our rage was. In the 2010s we started reporting and recording crimes against our community, specifically executions by police. Finally we had something that wasn’t as easily ignored and we quickly rallied behind it. With a bright light shining collectively on our oppression and especially on the police and policy makers, we were made aware of how overt the violence against us had become. We could no longer blame our ignorance on the darkness – now it was light out.

I once heard that a black man is killed every 28 hours and that over 130 black people have been murdered by police since the start of 2016. This, for me, was a call to action. Immediately we ran to the internet to share the injustices; we organized and attended rallies and protests; we uploaded videos of police brutality in places where they could no longer be ignored. We stood and sat in for each other, for strangers, for our loved ones, for our friends and for ourselves knowing that at any moment we could be next. It became painfully clear that from one day to the next, the mourners could become the mourned.

What we may have forgotten to do was remember that while shouting that we’re human and have the right to live, at the end of each day we are human and a person can only take so much devastation before they break. We forgot to tell our friends that they aren’t obligated to consistently post about the murders or attend every protest. We forgot to tell them that they’re allowed to smile and live a regular life. We forgot spend extra time with our mothers and our fathers to calm their fears that the next time we leave our house, we may be shot dead in the street. We forgot to that our activism doesn’t always have to be on. We are allowed to take a break from rage and mourning.

Living every day in fear or rage or grief is mentally deteriorating for anyone, and spending each day riddled with these feelings does take an enormous toll on our mental health. It’s natural to feel guilt every time you laugh and then remember that a black woman was killed last night. It’s easy to say to yourself “Tamar Rice was just a child and never deserved to die,” while forgetting that you deserve to live with joy. It’s hard to be “carefree” when the struggles of our people confront us in a million ways every day. But it is important.

You’ve not forsaken your murdered brothers and sisters by watching a movie instead of attending a protest. You’re not betraying a mother in mourning because you had a good day and felt joy. Neglecting to take a break from the heavy focus on our murders and devastation is what leads to serious depressions and psychological breaks. Self-care within the black community is almost unheard of, and the result is scores of us suffering much more than necessary. We must realize that not only are we fighting this fight for the right to live without fear of death, but that we’re also fighting to enjoy that life – to be healthy and happy.

In case you were waiting for it, this is your official permission to actively love yourself and put your mental health first. I want you to laugh and enjoy the life you’ve been given even in the midst of great sorrow and oppression. You are loved and worthy of peace.

By Jam of Art Hoe Collective*, AFROPUNK contributor