This opinion piece reflects the views of its author and not necessarily those of Madison365, its staff, board of directors or funders.
I’ve been through a lot lately—some good, some tough, and some inexplicable.
I’ve been telling myself to write, to share my truth, and to tell my story, but I haven’t done so in a way that genuinely provides context and space for growth. Instead, I’ve poured my heart out on social media with limited context.
The truth is, I’m furious and deeply wounded. I’ve been betrayed, manipulated, and taken advantage of, sometimes deliberately and sometimes unintentionally. I’ve given my trust, space, resources, and opportunities for growth to people who didn’t deserve it. I’ve wanted to help people heal, feel loved, and be supported while pushing them to reach new heights, not just out of altruism, but a deep yearning to be seen and loved. In doing so, I’ve been cruel to myself, sacrificing my own needs, voice, and boundaries. I’ve neglected myself, forgetting to breathe, eat, and make time for silence and reflection. I’ve failed to recognize who I am and what I stand for, forgetting to put into practice what I teach and what I know works.
I’ve allowed myself to be consumed by anti-Blackness, misogyny, and feelings of unworthiness as if I don’t belong or I’m not enough. This has caused me to question my validity and ability as if I haven’t lived up to my promises. It feels like I need to explain myself all the time. I’ve started to embody this reflection and projection of anti-Blackness and the hate of Black women. But before I explain how, let me pause here and define some things for context and clarity.
Let’s start with anti-Blackness, which encompasses the beliefs, attitudes, actions, practices, and behaviors of individuals and institutions that devalue, minimize, and marginalize the full participation of Black people. It is also closely related to anti-darkness/colorism, as it amplifies and prioritizes proximity to whiteness. Colorism, the unequal treatment, and discrimination against individuals based on their skin tone, is rooted in and perpetuates white supremacy and racism by privileging Eurocentric beauty standards and upholding the idea that the darker someone is, the more aggressive and violent they are. Anti-Blackness is a form of racism that involves not just the racial oppression of Black people by whites but also by other racial and ethnic groups (including Black people), all of which have been heavily influenced by white supremacy. Indeed, anti-Blackness and anti-Black racism reside and thrive within institutions and ideologies of white supremacy, whiteness, and fear of Blackness. They have a profound effect on anyone forced to engage with these institutions, systems, and ideologies, irrespective of their own racial or ethnic background.
Misogyny is the hatred of, aversion to, or prejudice against women. Internalized misogyny occurs when women unconsciously project sexist ideas onto other women and even onto themselves. It results from societal views that cause women to shame, doubt, and undervalue themselves and others of their gender. Our society’s misogynistic nature is evident in the systemic disadvantages faced by women in various aspects of life, including the workplace, politics, social expectations, and cultural narratives that often devalue or objectify women. Even when these issues are subtle or seemingly benign, misogyny intersects with other forms of oppression like racism, classism, and ableism, creating a compounding impact on Black women—also known as Misogynoir. This term refers to the combined force of anti-Black racism and misogyny directed towards Black women. Coined by Black feminist writer Moya Bailey in 2008, the concept of Misogynoir is grounded in the theory of intersectionality, which analyzes how various social identities such as race, gender, class, age, ability, and sexual orientation interrelate in systems of oppression.
Words are important. Understanding said words is essential for understanding why I’m writing this. So, let’s get back to what I was expressing.
It is true to be Black in America and to be conscious, as James Baldwin has famously said, is to be outraged all the time. Working within systems and along systems is detrimental to the well-being of Black people. It chips away at your humanity. It forces you to forgo your values to be accepted. It forces you to play a game with your humanity in the name of equity. It forces you to kill pieces of yourself — most of the time unknowingly. It’s pretty genius — the process of killing off the humanity of people, that is. For example, you work with folks who appear to be your peers who are on the same wavelength, with the same objectives, desiring the same thing — system change, and too often from your peer group. While in the work, you’ll discover that 98% of people that you have declared your peers have no idea what racism, anti-Blackness, or misogynoir, or how they perpetuate it, how they embody it. So they hurt you, and you hurt them. That’s what rage looks like. That’s what self-hate looks like and anti-Blackness looks like at the hands of Black people and other non-white people. As the founder/CEO of Urban Triage, I reflect things that most people cannot contend with. I trigger them. I push their buttons. I reflect on their insecurities. Their demons. And most of them end up feeling, saying, and projecting the thoughts, “Who the f*** does she think she is?” I absorb those thoughts unconsciously and act them out, and “they” act out their thoughts. Also, unconsciously.
Why? It’s because of what I stated earlier. Misogyny and anti-Blackness lead to a way of seeing me rooted in colorism and the belief that assertive and confident women, especially Black women, are perceived as bullies. Women, regardless of race, who act assertively at work are seen as behaving in a dominant, masculine way, which goes against the female stereotype of submission, making them appear bitchy and aggressive. This perception is not only held by men but also by women and LGBTQIA-identifying folks, regardless of race.
White women and others don’t have to deal with the compounded impact of anti-Black racism and misogynoir, though they, too, have to deal with sexism. Additionally, we often fail to recognize in the realm of social justice and direct service, which are both rooted in politics, how we co-regulate, irrespective of race or gender identity. Co-regulation is when one person’s nervous system influences another’s nervous system. If someone triggers me, I will trigger them, creating a cycle of trauma projection often rooted in racism. I am frequently too preoccupied with tasks and problem-solving to be aware of what’s happening at the moment, leading to a vicious cycle of trauma projection rooted in racism. This understanding calls for critical thinking and active engagement to address the compounded effects of racism and misogyny.
Experiencing ongoing devaluation triggers social and psychological processes that diminish Black women’s ability to cope with stress and life and research indicates that anti-Blackness and misogyny lead to low self-esteem, a feeling of being unable to control one’s own life, distrust of cultural norms, and other traits that increase vulnerability to mental health problems.
Furthermore, the intersection of anti-Blackness and misogyny has been linked to low eudaimonic well-being, which includes engaging in life challenges, feeling purposeful, accepting oneself, being self-reliant, and mastering one’s environment.
In my experience, men often feel intimidated and emasculated by my presence, particularly in social justice and equity work. Regardless of their background, people involved in this work may feel uncomfortable with the assertiveness I bring to spaces. I am direct and transparent, taking charge, pointing out power dynamics, and offering unapologetic and authentic solutions.
For instance, when faced with quickly disbursing $5 million, I believe in streamlining processes rather than creating layers of bureaucracy. By trusting a small team to make the policy while the rest focus on efficient disbursement, we can ensure that the intended recipients receive the funds promptly.
Unfortunately, my proactive and results-oriented approach is often misconstrued as aggressive or dismissive. Rather than being seen as a leader, my desire to implement practical solutions is sometimes interpreted as bullying. This misinterpretation forces me to either limit my presence in such spaces or compromise my authenticity to fit in, which is a manifestation of the racism and dehumanization faced by Black women and others.
And, quite frankly, I’ve become enraged. I’ve become less than who I know that I am. I’ve been sad. I’ve become mad, resentful, and bitter. Inevitably, I’ve become everything that I’ve worked so hard not to be. I’ve allowed work and the trauma and hurt of others to become my hurt to trigger my trauma. It has me questioning what I’m doing and why I’m doing it. I’ve forgotten why I am in the work; it is because of the slow chipping away of my humanity. I’ve gotten into this work to provide education, solutions, and a way out for Black people. Away from the very thing I find myself in every day. I’m trying to dig out the sand (racism) as I’m sinking in the sand.
I am writing this editorial to urge our community to reflect on how we perpetuate and embody anti-Blackness and misogyny, and to take action against it. We must humanize the Black experience. Despite our city’s vision of being “Inclusive, Innovative, and Thriving,” we continue to witness the degrading and continuous dehumanization of an innovative Black-led organization that contributes to the economic and mental well-being of Black Madison. This is not in line with our vision.
As a community, we often express our desire for liberation and the eradication of racism and other “isms.” Yet, we fail to recognize these “isms” within ourselves. It is imperative that we become critical thinkers and prepare ourselves for the leadership of individuals like Kamala Harris.
Sadly, most of the harm I’ve experienced in the last six months has come from individuals who claim to be allies. They have used their position and proximity to whiteness to unconsciously weaponize it against us, with no sense of obligation to support one of the only Black organizations dedicated to housing, education, agriculture, and entrepreneurship in the way that we do.
For decades, there has been a call for an organization(s) like Urban Triage in Dane County— a community-based, trusted, effective, and innovative Black-led organization. However, as we take on the work, individuals from various ethnic backgrounds, along with systems and institutions, give us less space and grace despite being the only organization in Dane County operating at our current capacity. It’s time for us to acknowledge and rectify this disparity.
Urban Triage is an unprecedented Black-led organization in Dane County’s history, achieving remarkable milestones in just 4.5 years. Let’s all ask ourselves why we shouldn’t be fully invested in the success and leadership of a Black woman and a 100% Black-led organization. And if we are, how can we show up in a way that truly makes a difference? This isn’t just about Urban Triage, but about supporting all Black women and others who are making history right in front of us …versus compounding the work through our own projections and unhealed parts.
I urge everyone reading this to invest in, trust, support, and defend, Black women.
I leave you with a quote from Roxane Gay: “All too often when we see injustices, both great and small, we think, that’s terrible, but we do nothing. We say nothing. We let other people fight their own battles. We remain silent because silence is easier. Qui tacet consentire videtur is Latin for ‘Silence gives consent.’ When we say nothing, when we do nothing, we are consenting to these trespasses against us.”
