I’m not exactly sure why, but it bothered me.
When I closed my eyes last night, I must have fallen into a deep sleep quickly because it was now 5am and the lamp on my nightstand still illuminated our bedroom. I could hear the gentle hum of Byron’s c-pap, an indication that he was in the deep realm of REM sleep.
Now, I am usually an early riser. Sometimes this perimenopausal woman wakes at 3 am, with tons of energy, ready to clean the kitchen or throw a load of dirty laundry in the washing machine. But this morning was different, the 5am wake up call was disorienting to me. It was almost as if I had been running in my sleep and woke up in a strange place. I didn’t feel sick. I hadn’t had a beverage, the previous evening, that could prompt a headache. I hadn’t eaten late into the night. But I had a headache. Hmm?!
I must have been so tired last night that when I reached for my bedside water bottle this morning, it wasn't there. So, I got up and walked into the kitchen to retrieve the thermos that I had left on the table. I guess Royal heard me moving, so he met me in the kitchen. We gazed at each other, eyes piercing through the dark, fixated on one another. After refilling my bottle with filtered water, more ice and a squeeze of lemon juice, I walked Royal to the back door, so he could relieve himself in our backyard.
At 5 am, there were birds already singing a beautiful melody and I quietly stood there, watching him, listening to them, and taking deliberate sips of the refreshing lemon water. He knew the routine, so as he re-entered our home, he simply waited for me to make my next move. Whether he was going to follow me around, as I cleaned something, or if he would saunter back to the bedroom to get another few moments of rest, he was right there by my side.
Well this time, I decided to go back into the bedroom and get back in the bed quietly, beside my husband. The headache was slowly subsiding as I intentionally took sips of fresh water. As I lay in bed, I decided to do some box breathing to recenter myself, but quickly realized that I needed something a bit more sustaining, so I did 4-7-8 breathing. I needed more time to exhale and allow the toxins to exit my body. I needed those extra seconds to hold space to feel any emotion, but then spend more time releasing any internal tension. I reached for my phone, put my earphones in, and turned on my audiobook. I have both the hard copy and the audiobook of Black Joy: Stories of Resistance, Resilience, and Restoration by Tracey M. Lewis-Giggetts; so I can have it on hand when I am sitting in a public place and want to read, or in times like this, when the lights need to be off, but I still want to engage with the book. So I took deep breaths, as I listened to the author reading her book to me. She read and I listened intently to the inflection of her voice. And it hit me!
The nagging headache that came out of nowhere and startled me out of the sleep realm, was my body’s way of letting me know that I was in the process of RELEASE.
Releasing the frustration of the Whiteness framework that often plagues the psyche of Black folks who recognize when Whiteness is at play.
Releasing the hold of this ignorant ideology that seeks to undo years of progress for all people.
Releasing the notion that somehow I would have to prove myself to individuals, who are ignorant, at best.
Releasing myself of the pressure to keep documentation, have evidence, and show receipts, but still operate in a framework of white supremacy that can repeatedly tell lies all around the mountain of truth that sits before them.
Releasing myself from the burden of the information that in the State that currently ranks 50th in education, an all-white Charter school board, (the majority of whom are NOT educators) voted unanimously to close a 2-year-old Charter school led by a competent Black, female turnaround school specialist and a Board of qualified educators ranging from K-12 through the collegiate level.
Make that make sense! Nope, it doesn’t!... Actually it does, within the Whiteness ideology. Geesh, we're back to that!
Releasing myself of the notion that these people would ever understand what our Black and Brown children & families need and deserve.
Releasing myself from the stress of performing for anyone, when on my worst day, my intellectual prowess always outperforms them.
And at the end of the day, releasing myself of what anyone may ever think of me.
I am released and I don’t care.
And after those 5 am realizations, I chuckled to myself. Not a deep laugh that would have woken my husband, but a silent rumble that simultaneously soothed my nervous system. The type of laugh that made my toes tingle and my belly rumble. This chuckle resonated within my chest cavity, as it forced those nagging toxins out of my body, causing the remnant of my headache to dissipate.
I am free.
I am whole.
I am brilliant.
I am intentional.
I am beautiful.
I am dynamic.
I am powerful.
I am Black, bald and absolutely beautiful. (Hello somebody!)
I am an answer to my mother and father's prayers.
I am a solution for Black & Brown education that thrives.
I am unique.
I am creative.
I am God’s masterpiece.
I am divine.
I am encouragement.
I am a warm hug on a chilly day.
I am calm.
I am a fresh wind.
I am more than enough.
And now I’m sleepy…. And I’m going back to bed.
The headache is gone! This is #BlackJoy
