I’ve been feeling out of sorts lately. Mentally. More so than the usual father, husband, work, BLACK person in America, grind. Just tired. Tired in my spirit. So, I checked in with myself.  Something I wouldn’t have thought to do in my pre-therapy years. I asked some myself some questions, listened for the answers, and I think I’ve pinpointed what’s got me feeling some kinda way.

I’m tired of waiting on white people to act right.  

I’m not talking about singular white people. One is required to say this after making such a statement. I mean, some of my best friends are white (a couple), my wife is white and yadda yadda (that’s a handy little phrase, isn’t it?). I’m talking about white people as a group. The Caucasia Collective if you will. (I swear to God, if I hear of one of y’all using The Caucasia Collective and not giving me my propers….). As a group they will not do what is Right, nor what is Just. They tolerate intolerance, inequity, and injustice with ease, paying lip service to how rough it is on them.  And yes, white readers, this goes for many of the Collective that you are close to.

Have they left? Nice.

Those of you (white) that are still here most likely feel the same, because you see the same. You’ve heard white people invoke all kinds of reasons to not do what is right for the collective. You’ve watched them sit on their hands when the moment asks them to act. You’ve listened to them praise equity and diversity, just as long they don’t “lose” anything. You’ve even watched some of them cry while saying “I had no idea”. As if we haven’t been saying the shit for how long now.

Mind you, I’m not talking about white people on the other side of the equation. The Yan to the Yin. I’m talking about the good ones. The opened minded ones. The benefit of the doubt giving ones. The, both sides have a point ones. The signs in the yard allies. The ones who believe in moral arc bending and bringing uncles out of the darkness of racism over Thanksgiving dinner. I’m talking about white folks who couldn’t break the glass on their precious ideals, damn the emergency, and the consequences.  

I’m talking bout those mufuckers. Combine them with the others and positive progress ceases, while negative metastasis across the collective. And if you can’t see that, you ain’t paying attention. Meaning, you one of em.

Martin Luther King spent the final years of his life depressed. Contrary to what is said now, the overwhelming majority of white America didn’t approve (like) of him. Or rather, they didn’t like what he stood for (BLACKNESS). James Baldwin drank, a lot. He too struggled with depression. Both had seen a lot of cruelty, pain, and death. Both had high hopes in whiteness. They believed a turning would come. That Whiteness would finally welcome their darker brother to the table.  

I believe both came to realize those hopes were in vain. That a seat wasn’t going to be offered. Mainly because fear. Fear that those who sat at the head of the table, would be sent to eat scraps in the kitchen. Or worse, forced to eat at a round table in full fellowship. All equal, no one above the other.

King, Baldwin, their contemporaries and friends, all grew tired. Very tired. The wait wore on them, as it’s wearing on me, and you.  

I’m tired man.

Tired.