The Invisible Black Woman

Remember how I told y’all that whole situation with the Brofecta had layers on layers and more twists and turns than your favorite roller coaster? Allow me to introduce y’all to part three. I legit might have to turn this into a spinoff forreal.

So I’m not going to recount what happened that fateful semester just yet, but I do have to share something that happened very recently related to my “favorite” trio. This semester, I missed the first two weeks of class (more on that in your regularly scheduled programming real, real soon, promise!). So when I finally made it to the classes I missed, imagine my surprise to have to introduce myself, two weeks into the semester, and discover that two-thirds of the Brofecta were in my class.

Jesus be a time machine.

Right after I introduced myself as the straggler to class, my professor does an icebreaker and I get to hear them both add their commentary and the professor chumming it up with them like they were besties. If deer in headlights was a person, that would have fully been me in that moment in time. I didn’t know whether I should close my iPad and toss it, turn it on airplane mode and figure out my life, or what. The best part? We were going to be assigned groups to work in for the entire semester. But before that, we were going to be randomly placed into breakout sessions for some guided discussion and then come back to report to the whole class.

My God, why have you forsaken me? Why, sweet Baby Jesus, why!?

So in that split second, I did the only thing I could think to do. I sent a private message to my professor. It went something like this.

“Hey, girl, how you doing?”

I’m kidding, it really didn’t.

“Hi, Professor, I have an unusual but urgent request.”

I didn’t wait for her to respond.

“Can I please ask that you do not pair me with Bro 1 or Bro 2? The long and short of it is I was verbally assaulted and I cannot be paired with either of them this semester, please. Thanks for your help in advance. Also, if I’m not asking for too much, can you please not place me in the same breakout groups with them? Thank you.”

“Okay, no problem. Thanks for letting me know.”

And with only those words, she remained true to her word. The entire semester, she never placed me in groups with them and she didn’t pair me with them for our group-long project. There was no, “in the real world, you’re going to be paired with people you don’t like. You can’t just pick and choose who you have to work with.”

Not only did she hear what I said, she took me at my word. And man, what a change of pace that was compared to the completely clueless professor who literally threw his hands up and wanted to know what I expected him to do about it. Such a novel concept to not just hear what someone has to say, but to believe them. And, being in a position of power, to do everything you can to ensure that person’s psychological safety.

I have no idea how much the fact that the professor was also a Black woman had to do with it. Okay, for those of you who fell for that statement, please know that was heavy on the sarcasm. Whether she had a similar experience and this was her way of standing up against it. Whether she stood in solidarity with me because of an unspoken shared experience. I honestly won’t ever know.

The semester went by uneventfully, save for the fact that I struggled to really get into the class. I enjoyed the material thoroughly, but something about having those knuckleheads in the same class as me made me want to pull a Homer Simpson and slide into the proverbial bushes. And, don’t get me wrong, I’m no wallflower. I’m not one that shrinks, hides, or backs down, but this season in my life has opened up a festering wound that has made me softer and more cautious than I have been in times past. The old me that would say, “eff them and their BS” wasn’t as eager to do so. I had flashbacks to all those times they spoke over, disregarded or dismissed me during that semester—or when they sat there and let the one guy verbally wail into me. Then topped it off by all submitting negative —but anonymous—feedback on me.

Speaking of feedback, I get the purpose and premise of anonymizing feedback. And for the most part, I am hugely in favor of it for obvious reasons. But I take a lot of issue with cowards who hide behind anonymity to cut you down a peg and say things about you they would never say to your face. Sadly, more often than not, anonymity is weaponized so cowards have carte blanch to say everything they wish they could say to you they know good and doggone well is way off base. But that’s a story for another time.

So this semester, I decided to protect my peace. And what that looked like for me was to opt out of class discussion. I chose to engage in the barest minimum of ways and I have no regrets about doing so. I managed to get by unscathed up until the very last day of the semester, when I was required to do a presentation in front of the class about the project I completed for said class. The days leading up to it, I had moments of panic that Bro 1 or Bro 2 would use this opportunity to force me to engage with them, since we had to do Q&A after our presentation. And as I thought about the worst-case scenario, it gave me an epiphany. There are so many of us that are forced to relive trauma because we’re stuck working for or living with the people who inflicted that trauma. And no one knows or cares because to them and in many other instances, those people are charming and energetic and never show that side of themselves to others. That side of them often leaves the traumatized person feeling trapped because they don’t get to see the side you have seen or have dealt with. It makes you realize how easy it is for those individuals to continue to thrive and excel.

The entire semester, I witnessed how engaging and charming these two were and how connected they were to the professor and other peers in the class. I would bet any amount of money that if I told them what I experienced, most would be shocked or in disbelief. And that’s exactly how people who don’t believe that you are their equal get to perpetuate their views and their poison. Because it’s not everyone they do this to, just a select few. But just because they are only that way with a small handful doesn’t invalidate the wrongness of that behavior. That realization made me that much more appreciative of the support I got from my professor. Because her decision to take me at face value sent the exact right message: “your experience matters, whether or not that was my experience. And because it matters, I will use my actions to show you that I honor and stand behind you.”

Those were the words I heard when all she said was, “Okay, no problem. Thanks for letting me know.” She said so much with so very little, but really, her actions after those words spoke way louder than her words ever did.

Fast forward to the day of my presentation, my stomach was in knots, but I pushed through. I had already prayed to God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit—and every saint I could think of—to not allow these two to show their a$$. To just let me do my presentation and get through the class in peace. And let me tell ya, God answers prayer, forreal. I got through my presentation, had a really good Q&A, and heard not a word from Bro 1 or Bro 2. And I was eternally grateful for the reprieve.

With it being our last class of the semester, I was feeling a lot of things as I wrapped up the semester hidden and unscathed. So before I dropped off, I sent a private message to my professor. Just now, I’m chuckling to myself that we ended the same way we started: with a private message.

“Thank you, Professor, for your support this semester. It has meant more to me than you’ll ever know.”

Then I rolled out.

Less than 30 minutes later, I got an email from my professor.

I saw your message and want you to know that I enjoyed having you as a student. Wish I could have heard from you more as you have such a rich experience.

Be well

A class act to the very end. She could have just as easily told me not to expect much since I had literally only spoken the first and the last class of the semester. And yes, I actually calculated how much not participating would cost my overall grade and decided the price was worth the shave. I look back and wonder what I would have done if she decided not to validate my concerns and placed me in a group with either of the bros. I’d like to think I would have powered through, but l have done enough “powering through” to last a lifetime. So yes, I would have been willing to drop the class, even if it meant I’d have to take it the following semester because that was the only time the class was available. Thankfully, I never had to find out. And while I have no idea yet just how much only speaking twice over a several weeks–long semester was going to hurt my grade, my peace as a result was worth every single damn point.

Unsolicited plug aside, since I’ve mentioned the title more than once, have y’all read Protecting My Peace by Elizabeth Leiba? I highly highly recommend. And if you’re not a reader, she’s got it as an audiobook. There, fixed it for you and you’re welcome. Your peace, especially in this day and age, should be sacrosanct. Don’t let anyone play in your face that is about mess and mayhem. There are people I let go of because they threatened my peace. And really, if you’re in a situation(ship) or with someone that doesn’t bring you peace, run away as fast as you can. There’s nothing attractive about a person that kicks up nothing but drama and strife in your life. Same goes for your job. If anything, let me be a cautionary tale of what can happen if you let that unrest fester for too long.

But, back to the topic at hand, I did respond to my professor.

Thanks, Professor! It’s the one thing I regret—not speaking up more—but I fully underestimated the effect of my past experience. There are parts of it that have stuck with me and being in class again with two of the people responsible was harder to overcome than I anticipated. 

I appreciate you being the kind of professor I wish I’d had when I reported it. Really made all the difference this semester. Again, more than you’ll ever know.

I sincerely hope our paths cross again in the future.

And no, it wasn’t because I wanted to sway her one way or the other. In another life or circumstance, I would have been all in. But that was neither the time nor the place for me and again, no regrets about it.

So here’s what I want to leave you with on this fine Sunday.

1. Protect your peace at all costs. You know how your momma or your aunt or your grandmomma would tell you that if you have a big decision to make or if you’re in a situation and your spirit doesn’t feel right about it, get out? Imma need you to take a long hard look at anything in your life that has you restless and let that go. You didn’t need me to tell you that, you already knew. Take this as your confirmation and get it (or them) out of your life.

2. Don’t judge, help. Sometimes you need to help someone without interrogating or challenging them. You have no idea the amount of cojones it took that person to just come to you and ask for help.

3. Be that person. And by that person, I mean, be the someone that a woman in a similar situation like me (or, sadly, worse) looks back and says, “damn, they did that for me.”

4. Speak up for yourself. What if I was so ashamed about what happened, and “felt dumb” for even wanting to ask what I asked, that I never did? Insert whatever situation you’re in right now, big or small, that you know you need help with because it requires someone else to stand in the gap for you (can you tell I grew up in the church? lol)? There is strength in admitting you need help and asking for it. So don’t suffer in silence.

5. Forgive, don’t forget. I’m sure I’ve said this at least twice before today. I do believe you have to forgive because that’s what helps you heal and move on. But I don’t believe that means you suddenly get amnesia and forget what happened. So forgive the transgression, but never forget the lesson it taught you.

My professor’s unflinching support by way of hearing me and honoring my request meant more to me than she’ll ever know. And if by chance, Professor Fabulous, you should find yourself ever coming across this post, I thank you from the depths of my heart.

Until next time, I wish you nothing but sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns, which are no less real and fabulous than the marvel you are.

Protect your peace!