Inherited Insecurity Sana’ Richards

My smiling lips, joined by sad eyes, are only the tip of the iceberg for this person that you see Beneath my everything that makes me, me Is my inherited insecurity

Melanin has rendered my skin darker Subjecting me to the darkness of humanity The depths of how devastating misinterpreting differences can be

My people were kings: they were proud, they were strong, they were warriors And they were classified as savages deserving of slavery

Seeds ripped from the soil that had reaped prosperity, And planted in stolen land among weeds Ravaged by parasites that took the life that they breathed Because watching my people wither was akin to a need We became cargo, we became slaves, We became property, dehumanized to our graves I am every person on that slave ship, every person on that field, Every person who has been whipped, flogged, beaten, and killed Because if I had been there, it would’ve been me; that’s the destiny I would’ve fulfilled

My inherited insecurity is embedded in the fact that I’m Caribbean Canadian, or African Canadian, or African American, or is it only just African? And now I know why no matter what countries we find ourselves in, we call ourselves Black, Because having more melanin in our skin has revealed all the light that humanity universally lacks

Now you still have time to go away, turn, and never look back Because this iceberg goes much deeper than just the fact that I’m

Black I’m a Black female Yes, this is different, Yes, this is distinct, Yes, we are more marginalised than you would ever think Lesser than the Black man, lesser than the White woman, struggling to figure out how we fit into the mould being human Are we the Mammy, or the Jezebel? Too masculine, or just invisible?

I believe we have been defined as E) All of the above Denied the right to raise our own but being forced to raise our future masters by whom we would be owned Raped and brutalized, but it was never criticized, because the curves of our body clearly meant that we were oversexualized Forced to fight, so not demure; forced to struggle, so not patient; forced to be both parents because our men internalized the lies the White man had suggested Forced to take the background in the movements the world celebrated, and we wonder why in the media we’re rarely represented? Romantically we are the least sought after, of all demographics. Amongst all groups and gender combinations, we are the least attractive And so these inherited insecurities dictate the course of my existence: How I see myself, how I am seen, and my much needed resilience And so I try to say this truth in love, but I will not apologize: Saying all lives matter is actually devaluing mine Saying that you didn’t ask to be white doesn’t change the fact that I’m Black And saying racism doesn’t exist anymore doesn’t make it suddenly poof and disappear Gone in the wind with no remnants

in the air Ignoring the weeds only allows them to grow You only continue their spread by pulling out the tops with your ignorance Making a wish out of your tolerance and giving it a big blow of air with no substance There is a root that needs to be dealt with But pulling out weeds takes a lot more than new legislation and political correctness

It takes getting down on your knees in humility Getting your hands dirty in the mess that has been created And pulling out the stereotypes at their very roots with all of your strength And with a commitment that says no matter how long it takes, this task will be accomplished Who is actually willing to do that?

My people of a different race, Are you willing to get in the mess that your ancestors helped create? And that by turning a blind eye, you have helped perpetuate?

My fellow Black people, are you willing too? This state is comfortable for you

We have become too used to being used There are stereotypes we’ve adopted, as traits of our race We’ve adapted to the environment of the weeds and have called this success My goodness, our society has a flawed view of progress Who is truly willing to do all of that? Who? And this is why I struggle with standing at the altar beside a White man, saying I do And believing that he would say it too It’s more than just culture It is the whole iceberg of my identity It is the roots of my inherited insecurities And yet, someone already did all of that for me I am a part of the most epic love story in all of history Science tells me that we are “X” percent different and “X” percent the same But that’s because we all have origins in the one who introduces Himself with I AM as His name We inherited the identity of being made in the Imago Dei But we are unable to escape this weeded mess on our own Because we planted ourselves in this imperfect soil, which was not meant to be our home

We chose our slavery to an evil that corrupts And by the time we realised the condition of our chosen soil, we

realised we were stuck This soil was soiled, and it perverted who we were meant to be And established the weeds of racism, sexism, and every other ism that plagues humanity Our Creator witnessed this and would’ve been righteously justified, To let us bear the consequences of our choice of Him being denied

And yet the Creator became our Gardener, and got down to His knees, In humility He chose to pull out our self-perpetuated weeds And then He changed the soil by the perfection that He shed A new life would replace the death we lived instead

When we encounter the iceberg of our identities, we crash like the titanic Not a situation that we were prepared for, not something we can manage

And then there’s death and despair and unbearable tragedy Because we are unable to handle our inherited insecurity Look in the mirror, be honest with yourself about your inherited needs We bleed the same colour because we share the same weeds

I shared with you the insecurities that underlie my eyes, my smile, my hair But recognize that there is an inherited insecurity that we, humanity, all share

This insecurity is only abolished in security In the love, sacrifice, and grace that has fully set us free This is the power to change our souls and our society

What I’m saying must offend, but I know it is the life, the way, the truth, and the end. You ask me how? Let me tell you

It changed me, and I know it can change you