Resisting the Temptation to Segregate (I Wish They Never Learned the Word Woke)

Lord, I am tired, and the year has only just begun.

When it comes to social conflict, I am a realist.  Paradigms are nothing new.  It’s almost like 10 minutes after God created the hills, humans climbed on top of them, eager to die for their beliefs. 

I am also familiar with political tension, being that I am a black person who often finds herself in predominately white spaces.  Now, personally, I believe that the journey from slavery to a respected citizen is more of a humanitarian issue.  Still, most people define the issues that manifest within that journey as political, so for the sake of uniform understanding, I’ll refer to them as such.  

I attended predominately white schools and institutions from elementary school through college. With a career in wellness, I have continued the personal trend of being the token black girl.  Whether it’s a yoga class or wellness retreat, I’m usually one of, if not the only, black person in the room.

The recurring theme of being the random black girl is in no way a reflection of self-hate.  I’ve never had a problem attracting and maintaining friendships with black women. In fact, it’s been those very relationships that have kept me grounded in an otherwise exhausting cycle of microaggressions and, if we’re bein honest, blatant racism.

I was not raised to live in a segregated reality.  I grew up in Brooklyn in the 90s, and contrary to what the television show Friends would make you believe, New York is an insanely diverse place.  There were rarely scenarios where I was the only black person.  On the flip side, separate from family events, I don’t have many memories of being in exclusively black spaces.

All this exposition for what, Dominique?

Well, if we’re still being honest, I’m beginning to feel the desire to segregate.  Maybe it’s because I’ve been down South for too long. Or perhaps it’s the consistent dog whistle being blown by the current administration, which seems to believe that a “colorblind” society is anything but the definition of gaslighting.

It’s all been so exhausting, and these Twitter fingers are tired.  

This morning, I heard a white news reporter reference the “Woke Mob” and I audibly laughed.  

Woke used to be a word exclusive to the black community.  Now, on a good day, it’s used to describe liberals.  On a bad day, it’s another dog whistle with a hard -ER.

Historically, “Stay Woke” was a cautionary warning.  Remember what your ancestors sacrificed for you to be standing here today.  Remember the determination it took for them to rebuild a sense of functioning society from scratch with little to no resources while constantly being in fear for their lives, often separated from immediate family, and having to start bloodlines from scratch.  

Never forget how much was sacrificed for the privilege of sleeping peacefully at night.  They ran from dogs so we could be free today.  They were beaten for drinking from water fountains so that we could know that our lives matter just as much as our oppressors.  As time progresses, the illusion may be created to make you believe that you are equal and the work is done.  But beautiful, black child, stay woke. If you do not, history will repeat itself. 

And now, “Woke” belongs to the people who still hate us most.

So, while I still find myself in predominately white spaces, my tolerance has been worn down.  There are too many resources for me to have the responsibility to explain what racism is.  It’s 2025, and we are in the age of information.  People are who they are on purpose, and that is their God-given right. 

They not like us, and that has nothing to do with me.