PHYLL OPOKUGYIMAH ASKS: IS TIREDNESS A RADICAL ACT?

PHOTO AJAMU

I’m tired. I’ve come to understand this feeling intimately. It’s not exhaustion, which leaves me bedridden, but rather an anxiety through which my self tells my mind that I need to slow down, that the pace at which I’m running my marathon is not sustainable. My tiredness is, paradoxically, a motivator, as it pushes me to focus more energy on self-care, on ensuring I have a full tank. Knowing that so much of my self-care is in the quiet moments that I allow myself to spend with Audre Lorde, I run my finger over my collection of her books, waiting for the universe to say “this one”. I slide out Your Silence Will Not Protect You, and start at the beginning: “I have come to believe over and over again that what is important to me must be spoken, made verbal and shared, even at the risk of having it bruised or misunderstood”.

Ah – UK Black Pride; my pride and joy. A mission I understand, a movement I helped create and about which I must make verbal and share, even though it’s consistently misunderstood. It used to bruise me, this misunderstanding, though it doesn’t anymore. Instead, I feel more empowered by the misunderstanding because the misunderstanding means there is still more work to do. (It is par for the course that community organisers find misunderstandings motivational!) The bruises now come from the rolled eyes that accompany misunderstanding – “Are we still banging on about racism?” We not only have to remind those within our community that racism and misogynoir are still a thing, we must constantly remind those outside our community that being queer and black is still a thing (and the rest!), and so tending to those bruises makes me tired. Sometimes I feel the world shrugs as we navigate this emotional and mental assault course parading as “the way it is”.