a radical proclamation: you are indeed, worthy — kamil arrington
“historically, those who identify as both black and a woman have had to carry not only their burdens, but the burden of those around them. the burden of being viewed as less significant although the world itself was birthed from our womb. the burden of being torn from our own homes in exchange for a place that’s both unfamiliar and dangerous.
”
sometimes i wear the title of “mad black woman” perfectly; almost as if it’s a second skin i step into with ease each morning. this madness teeters carelessly between apathy and rage on a mission to tear me apart from the inside out. on any given day i’m mad at the world, myself, those i love and have loved, strangers, the system, and in my lowest moments, i’m mad at the same God i pray to at night. as much as i sometimes like to believe that this turmoil is mine alone, i know this is not the truth.
historically, those who identify as both black and a woman have had to carry not only their burdens, but the burden of those around them. the burden of being viewed as less significant although the world itself was birthed from our womb. the burden of being torn from our own homes in exchange for a place that’s both unfamiliar and dangerous. the burden of having our children stolen from our arms only to be forced to nurse the child of the same person who enslaved us. the burden of seeing our husbands, brothers, sons, cousins, and kinfolk thrown into prisons at startling rates. the burden of picking up the pieces with our tired hands in an attempt to make something seemingly broken beyond repair whole again.
i’m mad because the grief of women i’ve never known dances through my DNA reminding me that
this world has never offered us
a safe space to heal.
grief has been with me for as long as i can remember, even before i was actually able to call it by its name. i had been misled to think that grief was only reserved for physically losing someone and because of this i had no idea how far reaching it was in my own life. i had no clue that grief is what i felt when my family transitioned out of our all black neighborhood into the white suburbs, leaving me stuck in the middle and out of place in both spaces. i felt it when my dad would sometimes go days without talking to me, my own presence an annoyance. i felt it when a neighbor called the cops on me for riding my bike because she assumed i was in a gang. i felt it when i survived a car accident and others didn’t. in all these instances, i pushed this feeling into the back of my mind, sitting on it and allowing it to simmer thinking that it would dissipate, but it only grew. i had never thought about what would happen if i decided that my life was worth more than constant suffering.
like me, maybe you have become so skilled at hiding your grief that even you have forgotten how destructive it is. i cannot not write or talk about personal liberation if it’s not something i’m attempting to actualize. at every turn, society has told us that our only station in this lifetime is one that leaves us defeated and broken down. however, underneath the grief that we have passed down each generation is a joy that refuses to be erased. elevating and maintaining this joy first begins with the radical proclamation that we are indeed worthy.
while this looks different for everyone, i want to share key questions that i have reflected on as i’ve begun to cultivate the desire to move from a space of just living to one of thriving.
what does a liberated life look like for me and how will i convince myself of my worth?
how can we begin our journey if we don’t have an idea of where we would like to go? this chapter of your healing calls on you to day dream and imagine what life looks like for you on the other side. giving yourself space to envision a different reality begins to prime your mind in the hopes that it will realize that what may now seem far fetched is actually possible.
what false narratives have i created or accepted in regard to my worthiness of healing?
when we take the time to sit back and reflect, we start to better understand where some of our thought patterns come from. we aren’t planting in fertile soil if we fail to acknowledge how our beliefs have hindered us.
do i recognize how grief has shaped my life and what lessons can i learn from it?
i was shocked one day to realize that so much of my existence has been molded by my relationship with grief. it shows up in everything i do from how i interact with others to how i see my overall worth. being conscious of this gave me the insight necessary to realize that many of my responses were driven by grief and did not mirror my true or best self.
am i ready to make the commitment?
we often equate commitment to the pacts we make with others, but what’s most important are the ones we hold with ourselves. there have been countless times where i have started down this path only to fail shortly after because i didn’t realize the level of dedication required. offer yourself grace and practice patience because some days you will wonder why you started and it’ll be necessary to recall what you’re working towards.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
BY KAMIL ARRINGTON
(SHE/HER)
social:
@girlmil
kamil seeks to better understand her own experiences with grief, faith and mental health through her writing. she is the creator of tell your story sis— where she strives to center the voice of black women and the write to liberation which encourages people to adopt writing as a tool for personal freedom. she finds joy in philanthropy, authentic human connection and peeling back the layers to discover her most authentic self.