Throughout the nineteen years being around my people I can attest and say that black people are the most caring and sacrificing I’ve met. On nights in my dorm, when I’m hungry and my back account is depleted, I could go knock on any girls door that may be in the same situation and in a matter of seconds we have created a meal out of pop tarts, chips, two bottles of water and day old bread. I’ve seen the men in my life wake up before the sun shun in my eyes and not leave work until the moon said goodbye. Them visibly tired and stressed, still came home loved on their families with kisses or discipline, helped the children with their homework, and got up to do it all over again until the day their bones said no. The women got the kids ready for school, attended most school events, went to work, and came home to take care of anything left to do that day and still found the time to give love.
It was not until around my twelfth birthday that I realized the people that were raising me may not be as strong as they portray. It was always an idea that I played with but never really set in me. Taking care of your mental state was foreign. If something inside was going wrong you got down on your knees and prayed or you told your grandmother and she prayed. Either way Jesus was going to handle it. When I heard about things my mother went through it made me realize again that maybe Jesus could not handle her problems. Not because he did not love her but because there were bigger things to worry about so maybe she had to take care of herself.
Mental health is a big problem throughout black communities. With the problems that were passed down through generations it can just get categorized as “day to day”. Black women have such a large capacity to help others. There isn’t a time where we can drop the ball and someone picks it up. If it drops, it’s gone. There can’t be a period of panic for us.
In a country where our bodies are already in danger so we have to take care of our mental space before anything. Some can find peace in what social media perceives self-care as, and that is face-mask, hydrating yourself, and getting eight hours of sleep. While those things are very important that may not the key to true self-care. Making sure that you are heard is important. Talking to a therapist is something that black women should look more into. Having someone there to sit with you and discuss your problems little or big is a necessity. Maybe a therapist doesn’t fit into your budget and that is perfectly okay but insure that you are talking with someone and expressing emotions that should not be bottled up. Saying no is another way of caring for yourself. We find ourselves always wanted to save people and be superwomen whether we mean to or not. Taking a few activities off your plate to give yourself “you” time. Finding an activity that puts you more at peace and scheduling it every week and making sure you do it at least once a week can be very helpful. It could be from watching your favorite show, exercising, or praying/meditating just find something that lets you take a breath.
Admiring the four black women that have raised me and the multiple that have had their hands in helping sculpt and refine me I want nothing more than to help them find peace. I’ve seen them stretch themselves thin but still be able to make it to work on time, put food on the table, and enjoy a few laughs. When I look at these women and the ones I have surrounded myself with that I call friends I can do nothing more but be outlet for them as they are for me. When I watch my six year old sister prance around, my two step sisters tussle with one another, and my girl cousins make dancing videos I think about how smart and beautiful they are but how this world will teach them to nurture someone else before they nurture themselves. I want nothing more for them to grow up and know that it is okay to care for themselves first.