This is a narration of my internal world when I tell a white person what they said is racist. I experience racism as intimately traumatic and these interactions of everyday racism drain me, exhaust me and deeply impact my mental health.
The emotional labor that goes into every interaction, with an attempt to educate another into not hurting us as a person of color, is something we have to live with.
Perhaps someone will resonate with this internal dialogue and recognize they are not alone. Or perhaps white folx will be able to read how their words impact us. I tell you what you say hurts me, politely. I back my words with “evidence,” you ask for more. You say this is my opinion, as if pain is a choice.
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