Come For Me, I Don’t Care

I’m just so fed up

As I reflected on yet another consultancy gig that went bust this week, I asked myself could I have done things better. The reality though is that the client, a group of bitter and frustrated white women, demanded total and complete submission. I wasn't ever supposed to contradict what they said even when what they said was wrong. I was expected to obey and comply without question. How dare me, the lowly, Black woman have an opinion on anything? How dare me ever challenge them?

I will admit that it has been quite a few months of working with this particular organization and being bullied and silenced systematically. The racism was thick, like a fog, in every interaction. I knew a week after I got into the new gig, even though I was hired for my expertise, at the end of the day, what was required was for me to submit.

So as I reflected on this yesterday, I watched AOC's latest town hall when she says to Tom Homan, the head of ICE, “Come for me I don't care”, and I've come to the conclusion that that is exactly where I am with regards to the people that I interact with in my life, personal, professional or otherwise. I will not submit and I will not comply and if they want to come for me, well, then I don't care.

Last night as it hit, as the information began to hit and filter that once again, my livelihood was under attack, I felt a growing sense of discomfort and anxiety. I called up a friend based in Kenya and we had a long conversation where she explained that she had found herself in a similar situation a few months back. Things had gotten out of hand and the white overlords, or at least the white organizations, providing the funding had complained about her performance. She boldly fought back. In our conversation she shared that if at the end of the day, she had to go back to her village and herd goats, she'd rather do that than lose her dignity.

I listened attentively to her perspective. I loved her energy, and her power. I thought to myself, “yes”, it feels uneasy to not have a livelihood and have a kid in university. It feels unstable and uncertain. But I made myself a promise yesterday. I'll keep fighting to find the place where the expertise that I bring is appreciated and valued. I'll fight to find that place to find that home, but I'm not going to forego my dignity. I will not sit in a room where people pretend to want me there, but at the end of the day, don't really want me there. A place where I am only there performatively.

A friend of mine, a professor at Harvard recently said that this was “Black fleecing”, a little bit like green washing, but you use Black people to make others believe that you are working with Black people and including Black people in your decision making. But when time comes to make a decision, you don't let them. You silence them.

So in the words of my dear friend in Kenya, I would say, well, you know, if I have to end up in the village herding goats back in Africa, or if I have to end up working in a fast food restaurant to make ends meet, well, that's what I'll do.

At the end of the day, it's about preserving my authenticity, my dignity, my sense of self. And when I think about it, even further, as I did, for quite a while last night as I lay in bed, "I need to model the behavior I want my kids to follow. I need to model that behavior to make sure that they don't take shit in the world”.

And so yes, I leave this gig with a heavy heart because the mission was a mission that was so close to my heart. But the reality is, if I stayed, I would have been crushed, I would have become a version of me that isn't the authentic me, so I choose dignity. I choose myself. I choose my mental health. And I'll shut the door on this adventure now, wishing them all the best. I know that my place awaits, the place where I can be fully my self is still out there and I'm going to go find it.

Thank you for reading my perspective.

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