Uplift Black Women: No Not Her...

I didn’t cry yesterday. I’m not crying today. And I will not shed even half a tear tomorrow. Today I’m breaking one of my personal LinkedIn rules: being the author of a LinkedIn post about the most popular thing on the internet this week. I’ve commented on my friends’ posts. I’ve done my share of trolling. I’ve even commented on major publications and news outlets’ commentary about what had happened. Kamala 0 | Donald 1. I know people are hurting and I understand why. Every time we put our hope in a system not meant for us we end up holding a bag of coal for all of our ideals when everybody else is being rewarded with the presents they wanted despite being naughty. So no, I didn’t cry yesterday. I’m not crying today. And I absolutely will never ever shed a tear on any given tomorrow. I’ve been like this for a while. Unbothered and way too calm when I should be screaming, turning into the angry Black woman they say I’m supposed to be, that’s me. When I was a teenager I thought there was something wrong with me — was I completely detached from reality? Did I lack understanding of the shenanigans, wrong word, the gravity? I remember when I was sorting my thoughts out after 9/11 and again, there I was unbothered. Something had to be wrong with me or maybe for once something was absolutely right about some little Black girl who was hanging onto hope as life seemed to hang her out to dry. 

“Freeing yourself was one thing, claiming ownership of that freed self was another.” — Toni Morrison

The truth is I don’t trust politicians as a general matter — honestly I’ve always been suspicious of the people in charge—parents, teachers, police officers, pastors, doctors, the biggest baddest bullies in the corporate offices, even Yahweh himself was subject to my scrutiny. Imagine puny little me wagging my fist at the God of everything demanding some accountability. I like rules and structure, and I follow them when they make sense but they usually stop making sense to me when they’re not applied equitably. Once I watched hardcore republicans or democrats switch sides in real time at 13, 15, 17, 19 and 21 years old, I knew nothing was as it seemed and nothing anyone ever had to say could be taken unless I dumped fresh sea salt over it, forget the single grain they always suggest we take. But how could a 13 year old change the world? One square inch at a time. So couple other 8th graders and I started going to town hall meetings, asking all the questions and even got a few “resolutions” passed. Next, I researched everything there was to know about candidates, local, state and federal and then I told the adults who they needed to cast their ballot for if they cared one iota about my future. The only candidate they had full autonomy on was the President. The other candidates, strange bosom buddies that I curated with so much pride, were chosen based on their policies, their impact (or lack thereof), a hunch or that random thing they said that made me think we might have a serious rabble-rouser ready to ruffle the feathers they spent so much time smoothing straight. Against this backdrop, I have always engaged American politics, economics, the society. Not as a stranger but a love child, a bastard, legitimized by my naturalization certificate and my willingness to assimilate. 

“I don’t have any time to stay up all night worrying about what someone who doesn’t love me has to say about me.” — Viola Davis

This is the part where I tell you I grew up navigating predominantly white spaces. At first a bit shell-shocked, with my West Indian accent, my accelerated education all of sudden limited, no friends and then one and then two and then three. Wait I was friends with my science teacher? What a nerd…And then my first real negotiation. For every 100 you get on a test or quiz, I will give you a hundred. I am my mother’s daughter, but I’m really my grandmother’s kid. A whole hundred dollars? Per test? I did the math…about four a quarter/class/year…wait, for physical education too? Yes $100/test or quiz for every class. It was the end of the first quarter, I developed a public voice—I couldn’t expect my Math teacher to keep covering me every time I defended my self with a bit more than equal force than they had initially engaged me. It was easy, I’d parrot their words so they could hear themselves when they heard me speak. My mom reviewed my neat stack of papers and typed the numbers into her desk calculator… 4 x 6 x $100 = $2,400. One, two, three, four…twenty two, twenty three and twenty four. Aubria are you open to renegotiating the terms for the rest of the school year. Sure, I’m open to a discussion. What did you have in mind Sylvia? I grinned. She now understood what I meant when I told her 3 months before, Mom, I learned all this stuff already. Would you be willing to amend the agreement to $100/100 average/class? Sure, I think that would be a more equitable deal. We shook on it. A few months later, 100 average in the 6 of the 7 classes…a 99 in PhysEd. Aubria you got 100 average in all of the academic classes? Yep. That makes no sense. I told you I learned everything they’re teaching us already, I finished my homework for the school year. OK, Aubria. You know the rest of the story…they bumped me up in my classes but I graduated with kids my own age—something about best interests, and boy did I bloat my interest rates when my momma needed cash but couldn’t get to the bank…She reminded me that I sometimes I wanted 25-50% on every dollar but sometimes I accepted PIK…e.g. I got a lightly chaperoned group trip to France and Spain spring 2002. 

I don’t think about losing because it isn’t losing. We’ve totally won.” What’s more, he was already laying down his public response to losing the election: It was stolen! - Michael Wolff

I have had my share of losses. If you ask everyone, they'll tell you it was everybody else's loss but my own but losers don't get elected. Losers don't get promoted. They certainly don't get paid. Losers never lead the smear campaigns. One of the things about me I have always struggled with is my pragmatism. I can always find a reason why I was never going to be their guy...perhaps the biggest reason of all is I'm not a guy, I'm a doll. My first loss on record was during the elections for my high school's chapter of the National Honor Society. I was a shoo-in the obvious choice. When you read ahead in the next section you'll see why I'm so certain...And the winner is Joe (it's weird how I remember his last name still). Joe, I thought. Who TF is Joe? That was my first thought. He's not even in the top 5. The second thought. He wasn't but he was probably 7th or 8th in the class. Tall, good hair, athletic, perfect teeth after years of braces, came from money...but why did they nominate me, tell me they were voting for me and then obviously vote for him. It wasn't even a close race...but I demanded a recount...it was the last time I believed people meant me well, by default. I was 4th in the class at that point, if you're wondering...five girls decimal points apart held down the top 5. I ended up being co-president of two of the other honor societies, one of the co-captain of my varsity field hockey team, one of the leads in Inherit the Wind, a 2nd Lieutenant in the Air Force Junior ROTC, the only kid Harvard interviewed in that district that college cycle, the obvious choice for that STEM internship, the one to beat, the most likely to succeed...

The most recent loss wasn't really a loss. I had to give up 99% of me for 1% of them but on paper I was more valuable, growing steadily over the last 27 years, a few dips but nothing deep enough to send off any alarm bells. Everyone who didn't get in on the ground floor had some regret because I still continue to be a sure bet. I've been on my Kanye attitude for a little bit there. He made sure they heard him as he entered my office: Hey Aubria, I just wanted to check in and see how you're doing? Why is HRH Mr. Redhouse coming to check on me I thought. Everybody trying to father me in this place. Do I seem like an orphan? He sat with that smug look on his face. I started to pray...Lordt you know your daughter is not cut out for jail, hold me to together, be the fence, the eagle's wing all the tings. How are you doing, Aubria? A little tired but all is well. How's your daughter doing, and the wife? I threw him. He goes off on a tangent about how cute the baby is and how he's supporting his wife. I could tell he really loves his family, he thinks he has to be what he has become to keep them safe. What else is going on? I remember a friend of mine who used to always come fishing for information...monitoring spirit if there ever was one. Not much just trying to close these two deals that have held me hostage the last six months, but admit I've learned a lot. You keep everything close to the vest huh? I only confide in Jesus bro. We laugh. If anyone is eavesdropping...they say we're friends but we're not. He's been bullying me for 9 months now, and all of my guardians have left the firm. I'm not leaving before I pick up the things I came here for, I think. When is he going to get out of my space so I can pray in my machine gun tongues and reclaim my atmosphere. He gets up. And as he's leaving he says: You know, Aubria...nothing moves you does it. I smile, this time no teeth, the way they taught me as a kid. He slithers away. Mr. Redhouse continue to torture me for another three months and then he flipped the switch. Aubria I heard that deal that died a few months ago is firing up again, just wanted to give you a heads up. I think he realized I was salve not salt for the wounds he suffered knowing they would never make him a partner. Mr. Redhouse convinced himself I didn't belong there and it pissed him off that I could be partner one day, but he had to find another place. Well he just got his partner gig.

I sat in my office listening to him talk on the other end of the phone. Aubria I just wanted to give you some feedback. Sure. He blathered on about all the things he hated as a green associate. The stuff low vibrational folks complain about. I hated the hours and the lack of predictability. It really upset me when a partner...I try to control a yawn but I'm desperately bored to tears by his irrelevant discussion. Then he says, so I understand how you feel, Aubria. James, could you provide an example or two where I complained about...Actually I don't think that applies to you. Anyway let's continue...40 minutes later, turned out none of his feedback applied to me. I hung up the phone and then I thought...I wonder if people asked this fool for examples to support his conclusions? Did they ever ask the folks smearing my uncommon name for evidence to support their conclusions? Did they ever bother to test their words against my actions, my patterns, my integrity, my diligence, my excellence--that annoyed even me because just good enough is usually what people want, they can't handle above and beyond. They can't handle exceedingly abundantly above anything they could ever ask, imagine or think. Sometimes the losses end up being the best wins.

“My mother did not raise me to ask for permission to lead.” ― Ayanna Pressley

I think that’s why my mom trusted me to manage our finances 1998-2008. I think that’s why I’m not afraid and never really have been. There’s so much strength in a Black woman’s financial autonomy. It’s like you have all of the grit (the stuff everyone thinks is magic), the degrees, the accolades and the money to effect some of the change. You can start small by taking an interest in a young Black girl and pouring everything you were never told into her cup until it overflows. And then you can help a kid with their books as they navigate college life. And then you can sponsor an event that supports a Black girl’s exponential growth. And then when you get your money right, you just do all the things, everywhere, all the time. I’ve always been a little weird, outlandish, and very very annoying. But I’m a good nuisance, the kind that won’t let you wallow or short sell yourself. If you tell me your dream you will make it real sooner than you think. When I went to my 10 year high school reunion in 2013, someone I looked up to and really admired told me I was her inspiration. Then the nerdy clan I was a part of talked about how their only goal was to beat me in every class. Sometimes people are using you as their bar while you’re busy figuring out you. They were wealthier than I was. They had better connections than I did. And they were competing with me? A few years ago, I got in a fight with my oldest Black friend—you don’t get it because you’ve always had everything, she said. Everything? Maybe in a way, I am everything but I haven’t acquired all the tings yet. Funny how even our skin folks make up narratives instead of just talking to us.

“Instead of looking at the past, I put myself ahead twenty years and try to look at what I need to do now in order to get there then.” — Diana Ross

When I moved to America, I had my standing orders. Sylvia made something from nothing so I had no excuses. She never told me her dream for me, just that she knew I needed a big piece of land to be everything she imagined I could ever be. So I became a medieval scholar, corporate manager, a fashionista, a professor, a dancer, a community builder, a finance lawyer—and when I accepted each award every step of the way, she added them to the growing pile of dreams we ACTUALLY realized—author, entrepreneur, philanthropist, polymath. There’s something about a Black woman born the year I was born, growing in the years that I grew, surrounded by images of all the things I would never do because I would never be one of the Who’s Who? [Fact check: My mom said I was who’s who among students in HS and College…she has the award catalogue, I defer to her details]. I came to America with my standing orders, buy the dream they’re selling or take all dreams the others left behind. So I got in my head, I’d buy some and I’d adversely possess others, tolling ownership of those dreams passed down by my ancestors. I’m ahead of schedule despite being landlocked for so many years, despite every hurdle, electric fence or brick wall and I even traveled, vacationed, rested. So no, I can’t be distraught or upset because there are more ways to win today than I ever had the last 9,855 yesterdays. 

"I'm OK with Black women winning, periodt. I'm tired of us having sunk costs for all of our investments. I'm tired of us taking a road that's supposed to be higher yet we always fall on our faces, covered in someone's else's crap, often coming up short, if we manage to get up at all. I'm tired of the superhuman requirements placed on us to carry the weight of everyone else's cause on our shoulders while we neglect ourselves, our needs, the most intimate desires of our own hearts. I'm tired of us marching for everyone else while no one bothers to stand firmly for us. I'm tired of the constant whiplash we face because we didn't say it the way we're supposed to, or dress the way we were supposed to or weren't grateful for the crumbs everyone seems to think we deserve. I'm tired of our being required to remain on the struggle bus as if the struggle bus has been the most impactful way to effect change in society." - Aubria Ralph

Apparently being a Black woman means being broke, broken and powerless in a perpetual state of anguish not trying as many ways as possible to pick up our stuff. We can’t afford to run the tired plays that have not served us well while fattening everybody but ourselves. We’re still playing in the minor leagues while everyone else is buying up major league teams. Strewps. We need a diverse group of Black women in our flanks so we can stop pretending we’ve pushed the needle by tilting our heads and actually make some progress. We don't have to occupy the same spaces. We don't have to think exactly the same way. In fact, we need representation at every table. We need folks with melanin pitching their tents and occupying any territory we can get our paws on, the ones we've pre-qualified for. The ones for which we made our monthly mortgage payments. The ones for which we already have equity. We can't continue to stay on one track, hoping everybody else will do right by us. My favorite definition of insanity is "doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result". It's time to send sleepers into every aspect of society, acclimated, well-adjusted and ready to dominate when the time is right. It's time to burn the bridges that persistently give us access to nothing and perpetually mute our mics. It's time to show up for ourselves like we've been conditioned to for everyone else. It's time we traded the magic for the money. It's time we traded meekness for might. It's time we dropped the labels, old and new...and do exactly what our resumes say we can do.

Some Dedications:

I want to dedicate this article to Condoleeza Rice. I was obsessed with her in the 90s and 2000s. When I learned that she was a classical trained pianist and fluent in Russian that was all I needed to know. I didn’t care about her politics. She was, at the time, a single, childfree, powerhouse of a Black woman. I wanted to be that smart, even if only just for a second. I want to dedicate this article to Oprah, gosh problematic as Ms. Winfrey has been in recent years, they didn’t want her to win. I remember watching clips of that 60 mins interview in 1986, Mike Wallace kept digging…what if you fail he asked her? Her response was perfect “If this doesn’t work out, I’ll do something else—this doesn’t define me” and several years later she reintroduced herself as the first Black woman billionaire and she’s childfree too. For a hot second, I wanted a talk show too…people love to tell me their business and that is clearly a viable business model LOL. I want to dedicate this article to Kemi Badenoch, who carved an unlikely path for someone with our ancestry. Those are the crowns that are the most heavy. I want to dedicate this article to Kamala Harris, I too, have had a network that seemed to work less for me than I worked for it. Sometimes you gotta widen your vista and fire old friends to get ahead. New friends will always trump old frenemies. I want to dedicate this one to my mom, her mom, my aunts, my sisters, my paternal grandmother and her daughters too. Nothing like a pioneer clearing a path for the younger crew. I want to dedicate this to my little nieces…I think they need to see every version of us out here, even the versions of ourselves we struggle to accept. They need to know all the versions of us are perfect and acceptable in God’s sight no matter what this mad mad world says.

The way they treat Black people is why the world can't have nice things - Nai