A Black Man Was Killed And I Still Went To Work
How am I supposed to navigate the professional world in the middle of a race war?
There is much to be said about the current state of America right now. One in which Black people are not living, but surviving. Taking it day by day because we can’t afford to plan for a future we might not even be alive to see.
One where we watch trauma porn on our Twitter feeds — one shot, two shot, three bodies, four. Countless black people have been murdered, how many more?
One where we see ourselves in the faces of Breonna Taylor and Philando Castile, but are still expected to show up for work and draft memos while white coworkers remain unaffected by the Black struggle.
I, like most of America, have spent the last 72 hours glued to my phone. Scared, angry, and defeated as I watched George Floyd take his last breath. A white cop’s knees pressed into his neck while an Asian officer stood by and calmly watched his partner commit legalized murder. Yet, I was still expected to show up to work the next day.
Can you imagine how dreadful it is to drag yourself out of bed and walk out the house with the weight of the world on your shoulders? THIS is what it feels like to be a Black person in America.
I could easily have taken the day off, but it wouldn’t have done anything. I am Black 24/7. This isn’t anything I can ‘take a break’ from.
I spent my entire work shift overcome with emotion that I could not show. Not only because it’d be uncomfortable for me to do so, but because very few would even understand in the first place. I sat alone in my Blackness. Alone in my office. I tried to shift papers around to feel like I was doing something, opened emails and left them unanswered. Prayed between breaks and held back tears between Zoom meetings.
Never have I felt so alone in an office full of people. In that moment I knew that although others could sympathize with what I was feeling, they would never feel pain on a level as deeply as I have. So I stayed mostly quiet.
