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Picture this, you are on your sofa minding your own business and all of a sudden, anxiety and depression swoops in, beats you senseless and takes you for everything you have. I'm pretty sure that’s how Black people feel when unknowingly opening their news feed to see another person of color treated poorly. (Which is an understatement, but for the purpose of this story I’ll keep my profanities to myself.)

Citizens of America, ya girl is tired! Some nights before I go to sleep, I fantasize what it would be like to not be Black in this hypocritical, greedy, spoiled and privileged place I dare to call a country. I wonder what it would be like to one day wake up and not have to think about how being Black affects my success when I’m in public or my intellect when I’m in a classroom? How would my non-Black friends treat me? Furthermore, when will I stop unconsciously questioning them for ulterior motives when hanging around them? 

My mother always told me that I was born with two strikes against me. One, I am Black. Two, I am Black and a woman. However, I want to open my third eye and look beyond the hostility, the grief, frustration, anger, and fear that I see with the two eyes I have. I want to see the big picture, because Black people are suffering mentally, if not physically.

Perhaps through the healing of each other, we can see the bigger picture and draw out the solution for equality and mental health. However, until that day comes, therapy, prayer and meditation have been my best friends during these dark times.