Truthing: A Collection of Essays

Copyright © 2020 by Randi B.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 10/27/2020

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Contents

Preach

I’m Coming Out

Ya’ll Best Get The Lesson

Deuces! Peace! The Power of Bye!

When Your Last Nerve is Being Plucked Like The Strings on Bo Diddley’s Guitar

Picture Un-Perfect

What I Ain’t Gowan Ta Do

Sistas’ Love Revolt

The Script. Are You Listening to Your Voice or Are You Following A Script?

Letting The Tears Fall: Setting Down The Strong, Black Woman Armor

Old Friends & Chin Hair

The Power of Embracing The Suck Factor

A Birds Eye View: What The Bird Doesn’t See

Get Yo Happy, Sis!

The Lion Cares Nothing About The Elephant: Listening to Your Voice

Fam

When Wonder Woman Loses Her Cape

You Ain’t Everybody Black Moms & Their Sons

Mother’s Day When Your Mother is No Longer Alive

Pink Ribbon & Purple Walls

Choice Between Educating The Mind and The Spirit

Dear Teacher Who Teaches My Black Child

Raising Zach – Graduation: My Heart Warm & Beating Fast

Easter Sunday at Granny’s

Race Matters

How in Da Heck You Gonna Cheat When You had A Head Start

The Rewhiting Of History

Mr. Blackman Goes to Therapy

Are Some Black People Oversensitive? Maybe.

White Racial Illiteracy Puts Us All in Jeopardy

White Girl Wasted Wednesdays & Other Fables

The Rules & The Wake Up

Beyonce and Being Unapolegtically Black

Biz

I’ont Feel Like Dealing With This Ish Right Now: Race, Work & An Email

When Racist Words Slip & The Absence of Pink Slips

America: Be Honest with Me, Can I Have Both?

Time To Give Fewer Fck$

Black, Invisible, & Content in Croatia

Blackout: Why Don’t Black People Support Black Businesses

We Must Stop Settling for Crumbs and Open A Bakery

Trippin’

Rolling Out To Look Within

Why Traveling Abroad while Black is Lit Af

What I Learned from Losing My Luggage

Kenya’s Sermon

Africa: A Home I Can Be Proud Of

Comfortably Lost in Ravello, Italy

What’s in A Name: Everything Actually

Shutting Others Out So I Can Tune In: My First Solo Trip

Us

Swimming Against The Current

4 Reasons Why Going To An HBCU Homecoming is The Best Thing Evah

In America, That Difference Makes All The Difference

Step Out of The Ring: A Word About Colorism

Black Enough - Who Gets A Card?

Blackhaustion: The Overwhelming Fatigue of Being Black in America

Drunk Aunt Randi

Blessed and Highly Flavored

Drunk Aunt Randi Reviews The 2010S

Drunk Aunt Randi Comments on The Coronavirus Lockdown Protestors

A Message to My Young Divas from Your Drunk Auntie

Epilogue

My Dearest Black Valentine

Dedicated with immense love to my Fam and to my Family

"They are just angry because the truth you speak

contradicts the lie they live." - Author Unknown

"What I know for sure is that speaking your truth is the

most powerful tool we all have." - Oprah Winfrey

"You are growing into consciousness, and my wish for you is that you

feel no need to constrict yourself to make other people comfortable."

-Ta-Nehisi Coates Between the World and Me

Preach

Am I good enough? Yes I am.

- Michelle Obama

I’m Coming Out

Being born Black was my first and greatest blessing; fully

embracing that blessing has been my greatest journey.

December 14th, nineteen-none-of-your-business, I was born to two, woke, Black-is-beautiful, I marched with Dr. King, ‘We Shall Overcome’, HBCU-alums. Accordingly, when it came to naming me, they adopted the popular trend of the late 60’s and early 70’s of giving Black children names that rejected European standards; and instead embraced African roots and/or showed how grand and unique their children were. Sharkeisha, Tameka and LaQuan weren’t simply names; they were political statements. Similarly, I was named Randalyn: a name that my parents chose because it honored my dad, Randy; thwarted the establishment, and displayed their love of their culture — at least privately.

Privately. Yes, Randalyn was placed on my birth certificate and used early-on by a few relatives; but my Black-prideful parents were also practical. Randalyn announced that I was Black before any teacher, interviewer, bank, or boss had even met me; and in a society that has been built on institutionalized racism, that name would create hurdles. So my parents and everyone around me have called me Randi for as long as I can remember.

Starting with the public mainstreaming of my name and through hundreds of additional lessons along the way, I, like most Black children, learned that loving your Blackness, loving Black people, Black pride, concern for the Black community and interest in Black matters was best done privately — or at least out of the eyes of mainstream society.

As much as people and companies proclaim to love diversity, most minorities are acutely aware that to be successful in America, you must obscure much of your race and culture in order to fit-in with the White mainstream. I believe most companies and people have the right intentions around diversity issues, but quite naturally, most people are uncomfortable with what is different, what is unfamiliar. Accordingly, as a Black person, you are more likely to be accepted by White people the more similar to them that you are. The Black guy wearing a Black Lives Matter pin on his jacket, or who wears dreads, or reads things like Race Matters at lunch, is not getting asked to join as many project teams and will not be promoted as frequently as the Black guy who wears khakis and a collared shirt, has a short haircut, and mainly stays quiet and smiles a lot.

This isn’t conjecture; this is fact. Look at the studies on resume name bias. Heck, walk through any corporation in America. Look online for Black leaders in corporate America. I guarantee that you won’t find many women wearing their hair natural, or men with facial hair, dreadlocks, large afros, or twists. You won’t find many people who are vocal on Black issues either.

There is a price to be paid for success in America; and for most minorities part of that price is sacrificing a part of your identity. My parents and most African American parents must try to raise Black children with high self-esteem; while simultaneously minimizing or asking them to obscure many of the characteristics associated with being Black.

So that’s what I’ve done my entire life — even as an adult working as a diversity and inclusion trainer. It almost seems ridiculous to me now; but for 16 years, I would get up and discuss the values of diversity, the realities of implicit bias, all while making myself almost gender, race and opinion neutral. I only talked about the real issues in diversity and inclusion when I would code-switch after work and talk amongst my friends and family members.

I became acutely aware of how pervasive code-switching and hiding our true selves was when my friends (who in their own rights are righteous, brilliant, and politically active) were completely silent on social media when the Black Lives Matter movement and the uncensored, recorded killings of Black women, men and children were at their height. Most people are FB friends with co-workers, neighbors, and fellow parents. Just like at work and at school, my Black friends were scared that if they posted about their dismay over the Trayvon Martin murder and trial, their concern if their children were safe, or the BLM rallies that they had attended; they or their children would be viewed as radical, angry, hard to get along with, or confrontational.

So, they were Black and involved – but only privately.

That’s when I made the bold decision (yes, for a Black person in America, it is indeed a bold decision) to start talking and being more authentic. I created spaces where me and my friends could vent, empathize, share concerns and brainstorm solutions. I’ve written many articles of being proud of my Blackness. I am proud of being Black, but I knew that the bold things that I say could cost me contract opportunities for my business. I knew that I would make many of the people I depend on to hire me for their diversity and inclusion needs uncomfortable, or frankly, scared of my boldness, my willingness to tell the truth, and my comfort with discomfort.

But I’m tired of not being authentically and fully who I am. I know that saying I love Black people does not in any way mean I hate any other people. I can’t own or be responsible for other’s unreasonable fears about Black love and Black pride. Saying that our lives matter should not make anyone uncomfortable; so I will no longer accommodate such ridiculousness.

I want us to raise Black children who aren’t told directly and indirectly by their own people, by their own communities, and by their own parents that their Blackness should be muted or hidden.

I also want to make things better for Black people and for our country as a whole. There is no way that people, organizations or this country will get to a place where we ALL feel included until we start getting real with ourselves, with one another and with having uncomfortable conversations.

No one should feel as if they must hide parts of who they are in order to flourish. A real appreciation of diversity dictates that it’s not fair to choose characteristics of a person or culture that are easier to accept (music, style and food) while shunning the parts that make us uncomfortable (painful pasts and current concerns). Blackness, in its entirety, isn’t scary. I should not have ever – nor will I ever again - make decisions rooted in that narrative. I will not soften the truth, nor will I hide. I’m Randi. Nice to meet you.

Ya’ll Best Get The Lesson

I distinctly remember thinking, why is everybody acting as if the world still had the pull of gravity; as if everything hasn’t been irrevocably and dramatically altered? I wanted to scream at the people who stood at the bus stop, shifting back-and-forth from one foot to the other to try to get warm in the freezing February temperatures, how dare you act as if today is just a regular day! How dare you wait for the bus, pay your bus fare, sit in your standard seat, and go to work when I don’t know how to put one foot in front of the other. I don’t know how to function. The center of my world – my gravity – is gone. My mother is gone!

I hated watching the news. I hated talking to my friends. The news talked about what was happening in the world currently; and my friends talked about what was happening in their lives currently. My focus was only on what had happened in my life. I was angry that they talked and acted as if life goes on.

In time, I realized a big lesson. It does. Life goes on – with or without us. In some ways, it’s a good thing. Life doesn’t allow us to stew in our sadness, as we are inclined to do sometimes. The kids still expect you to drive them to school and applaud the A+ on their math exam. Emails still need to be returned; bills need to be paid; your cousin is still getting married in two weeks. You still must function.

In some ways, it’s a humbling thing. As remarkable of a person as you are, when you are gone, life is going to go on. Kobe, one of the best basketball players to play in the NBA, a man who gave so much to the sport, died tragically; and on the same day the NBA kept doing what the NBA does. The players played, many fans watched, beer was consumed. Sure, there were tributes, moments of silence, and the like to honor Kobe; but the business of the NBA didn’t stop. Not even for a day. Life went on.

This understanding – that when you are gone, life still goes on — changed things for me dramatically. The lessons found in that one realization have completely dictated the way I live my life.

Lesson 1 – Stop Being Such a People Pleaser

When you die, there will be a handful of people, if you are blessed, whom are irrevocably, dramatically, and eternally affected by your death. Yes, there will be those who think of you at special occasions, many who will cry at your funeral, but there will only be a few who will be forever changed and impacted by losing you. Those are your people. Those are the people with whom you should spend the most time and for whom you should make the largest sacrifices. If I have a choice between a fabulous party with some general acquaintances – or a night in my pajamas watching a bad movie with a true friend – it’ll be pajamas every time. I watch people sacrificing so much of their time, doing things that they don’t like, to impress or please people who would miss their funeral in a heartbeat if it conflicted with another event.

Lesson 2 – Show Your Love & Appreciation

Tell and show your loved ones how you feel – consistently. If there is any area of your life where you should go ridiculously overboard – it’s here – in the love department. Start with yourself- yes, Boo, be indulgent with loving yourself. You will then be prepared to radiate love to those who are deserving. Call that teacher, mentor or friend and tell them how much you appreciate them. Smile at your work-bestie throughout her entire presentation so she knows how supported she is. Text that friend you only see once every couple of years to let her know that you are thinking about her. Reach out to that person with whom you fell out eons ago – so long ago that you can’t even remember why. I want to know that when I transition, everybody who is or was in my life knew that they were special to me. Don’t you?

Lesson 3 – Live…

Following tragic deaths of hugely popular people, such as Kobe Bryant, everyone gets on the one life to live bandwagon; and then life goes on for them – in the same manner it has for years. Memories fade, monotony breeds numbness and we stay in unsatisfying situations.

We stick to what is safe. But, pushing back things that you want to do because you believe you have plenty of time to do them is the most dangerous game one can play. There is nothing safe about betting on how much time you have left.

We also stick to doing what we believe will escape judgment. You will be judged regardless of what choices you make. Those whom are going to judge you will do so whether you say yes or no, turn right or left, or go up or down (none of us can name one person – even the most famous – who wasn’t judged in