I write from my knowledge not my lack, from my strength not my weakness. I am not interested if anyone knows whether or not I am familiar with big words, I am interested in trying to render big ideas in a simple way. I am interested in being understood not admired.
— Lucille Clifton
My mother is an ivy league educated pastor, and my pops is an NYU educated social worker. So if you ever wondered where my passion for community care comes from; talk to them. I’m just finishing the job.
I got my start in coaching, coaching middle school girls AAU basketball, boys Junior varsity football and college cross country. Driving sprinter vans filled with teenagers to Spooky Nook Pennsylvania was an experience to say the least! Above all, coaching teenage girls helped me learn how to be an impactful coach, without being patronizing. How to build buy-in, without belittling. How to communicate with care, and cultural awareness; and not spew toxicity from the pulpit of patriarchy. Above all I learned that in order to lead, I must commit to learning. Learning my audience, learning myself, and above all: learning not to seek comfort.
Do you remember the summer of 2020? The time your favorite influencer decided to be outwardly Black for the first time? Remember that moment when the entire country got a crash course in feeling powerless and imposed upon, as we watched our lives change before our very eyes?
People protested, petitioned, joined employee resource groups, leaned into in home fitness and watched as the word zoom became an overnight noun. Most of all: we were forced to reflect on our values, and our intentions relative to our work. Gone were the moments where we felt compelled to lessen ourselves in the workplace. We embraced the idea of working from home, and subsequently prioritizing taking care of our home-life, and letting work-work on our terms.
Simultaneously, it was as though being a Black person in any industry was a path to social empathy, and dare I say: allyship? It was as though the global pandemic gave Americans a first row seat at the social justice olympics. And welp…the Blacks secured the gold in sweeping fashion.
There wasn’t a DEI(B) dollar that wasn’t spent. No. “Invested” into social justice, and or social impact initiatives. The idea of social impact was so popular and PROFITABLE: Conde Nast brand, SELF, leveraged fashion week and the momentum of 2020’s OPEN LETTER palooza…
…by having Black trainers on the cover of their magazine cover. They coupled that moment with an event called “The Check In”, in which brands paid thousands, totaling north of a million dollars in advertising/media buys. CONDE employees went on to get promotions. Some influencers were compensated for their input to the event. While the person responsible for making that entire moment worth anyone’s time received…don’t seek comfort.
To be clear: I don’t think anyone truly believed that these billion dollar, brands, truly cared about community and social justice-at the expense of their bottom lines. That being said: i’m going to focus on what ultimately matters: Trauma, people, and change.
I dunno what changed for you in 2020, but a lot changed for me. I lost 2 grandparents to covid, and 3 friends to suicide. I observed the fabric of my strongest relationships shred to pieces. I spent days in isolation, confused, crying myself to sleep in hotel room because I felt more comfortable being alone than being in love. I navigated feelings of inadequacy, that forced me to question my masculinity. I learned and above all, I unlearned.
My unlearning led me to leading an agency, Fit For Us, that has been supporting community care while centering cultural brilliance through our events and programming. So as I sit here in 2023, I am grateful for the learnings in my losses, because I believe there is power in sitting with our traumas, and exploring the source of our disappointments.
Doing so forces us to sharpen our values, and aiding us to transition to a state of resolve. Is that not what we experienced and learned from witnessing the murder of George Floyd? For a moment; we had to sit and process the uncomfortable and disturbing realities of what we, as a community, witnessed. We learned, and we acted with intense care because many of us understood that-despite the jarring and painful experiences of 2020: we had to MAKE things better.
Seeking comfort looks like transitioning back to working in the office, and showing up feeling like you have to code switch. Seeking comfort is opting not to question the ways you benefit from patriarchy, and opting not to learn how it truly henders social equity. Seeking comfort is continuing to neglect how you might be normalizing homophobia, and marginalizing members of the queer community. Comfort is saying that "health is meritocratic” whilst Black and Brown folks continue to experience inequity in their personal care as well as the health care system. Comfort is burying yourself in work, and avoiding your personal healing journey. Comfort looks like failing to lean into the learnings and sense of purpose that we found navigated in 2020.
Have that tough conversation with your friend. Write that letter to yourself, about the feelings and thoughts you’ve been avoiding. Reflect. Learn. Unlearn. Don’t seek comfort because leaning into discomfort can be a catalyst for a personal breakthrough. While opting to seek comfort, can uphold a system that historically aims to break many of us down.
see you wrk
