Black Exhaustion

My experience as a white ally has been like watching a loved one grieve. You empathize, you are patient when they lash out, you try your best to be there for them and do whatever you can. You don’t say anything, but no matter how much of that path you walk with them, no matter how hard you try, you simply cannot fully understand what your loved one is experiencing. You do the best you know how, but you still feel helpless.

And it’s hard when your friends look to you like “You’re white, do something!” Some of us have already been doing anti-oppression work for many years, even devoting lifetimes to it. To do this work, to be the best ally you can, and know that your friends and community will always harbor that small resentment, that they will never fully trust you, is a very hard thing. But you don’t say anything, because what can you possibly say? They are grieving.

This is not a critique, or a call to action, or a defensive reflex. It is simply an emotional response to an emotional response. I only hope some small amount of comfort can be derived from it.


One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.