Notifications

Tears fall from my puffy eyes into my lap as I sit on the hardwood floor. I look up to a blurry off white wall to see the hole that I just created with my phone. Thank goodness for that phone protector. The television plays in the background as I hear voices of people trying to talk to me. I’m having a hard time understanding what they are saying, as the only thing going through my head is how in the fuck did I get here? My hand is bleeding as I somehow split my skin open from hitting the table after throwing my phone from across the room. That fucking phone.

My job was one that ask me to stay on top of what’s happening online and in the community. I need to have an understanding of what people are saying, misconstruing and spreading to ensure that the information being put out there is informed. In the time that I have been in this position, I have seen a lot crap being said. I have learned that you sometimes just have to deal with it as it really has nothing to do with you. Or does it?

When I first started, I was warned to not get close to anyone. The town is small, everyone is related and it doesn’t take long for people to make judgements about you. I took this warning and kept to myself. I worked my ass off and stayed focus on the important things. Making sure I was doing my job and to let the snide remarks and stares go. These people don’t know any better and are sheltered. The things they say are based on their opinions and backwards attitudes. It’s not about me. It’s about what I represent to them.

The text comes through as “have you seen what’s being said online?”

I’m used to these texts. This is a normal text that I get as I come home. I have every intention of coming home and relaxing, to no longer be doing work. But as it usual was with this job, I come home from work to do work at home. Keeping an eye on what the community is talking about. This time, the community was talking about me.

Then next thing I see are notifications that people are sending me what is being said on Facebook.

I go to the Facebook page. They are talking about me. They are calling me names. They are describing me in ways that I didn’t realize could be used as descriptions for people. They are tracking my whereabouts. The inflammatory postings are getting people excited. People are jumping into the toxic pool excitedly adding their thoughts and opinions. My eyes are burning, my hands are shaking. My face is wet. I keep reading.

More notifications.

More name calling.

The more I read.

My eyes are so irritated and blurry, I can no longer read. I pick up the phone and call, I don’t remember who I called, cause I could barely talk. I’m crying so hard at this point I feel like I’m drowning. I hang up.

More notifications.

I can’t turn off the phone. I throw the phone across the room. I don’t actually remember falling. Someone was coming through my door and saying my name, I think they are saying my name. Are they actually talking to me? My eyes are swollen. My hand is bleeding.

The phone is buzzing. More notifications.

Make it stop.

I hear someone say, “OMG”

The television is playing the news. There is still talking going on around me. Voices are concerned and what I think is vexation.

“I’ve never seen anything like this” one voice says

Silence.

The phone is still buzzing. More notifications.

They started a Facebook page. To talk about me and others that they are displeased with. Mostly about me.

It is clear that they don’t want me here. They want me gone. They have made their opinions known. I’m not welcomed in this community.

After my interview, a prominent figure in the community said to the group who was gathering to decide who to hire for the position said “you can not hire a black woman for this position!”

They hired me anyways.