On Matters of Race in America, by Adeolu Ilesanmi

I have been hesitant to share my thoughts for a few reasons. For one, I am disillusioned by the apparent futility of any form of public outcry or outrage as evidenced by the lack of effective reform at multiple levels of the criminal justice system since the reincarnation of the Civil Rights movement in the form of #BlackLivesMatter (circa the murder of Trayvon Martin, R.I.Power).

In addition, I know that my black experience is but one of multitudes, and I am continuing to confront the various forms of privilege that I possess as an educated African American woman with educated, supportive parents who have always provided me with more resources than I need just as I continue to confront the forms of discrimination/prejudice/racism I have and will continue to experience in my lifetime.

I also deal with questions about my identity daily and grapple with where I fit into the grand scheme of things—“What can I REALLY do in my capacity to effect any meaningful change?” I still have what sometimes feel like lofty dreams of incorporating some form of community advocacy into my future career as an adult (and adolescent?) psychiatrist, to help create a space that feels safe for women, for minorities, for young people who are struggling with finding balance, meaning, some sort of grip on life, most importantly hope.

Hope right now, “in the Age of Corona,” also feels a little lofty, doesn’t it? As we continue to settle into this “new normal” (or in the case of some states, settle out of it), perhaps the initial fear, uncertainty, and isolation that shrouded our day-to-day lives has begun to wear off. But for me, as an African American, there will always be a lingering fear, uncertainty, and isolation. Sometimes, in those lull periods between the lynching of unarmed black people by cops or civilians or between the alt-right protests or between the calling of cops on black people for just existing, those lingering feelings fade to the background. But they always reemerge, in second, third, seemingly infinite waves. The “new normal” for me has, unfortunately, become expecting the worst. There’s no vaccine or herd immunity to wait upon to curtail the systemic racism that’s so deeply ingrained in this society.

We must re-evaluate how we are using our resources to protect black and brown people in this country. Each and everyone of us has valuable gifts to offer this world, and we have to be more intentional about how those gifts, in whatever capacity we find ourselves, can be directed toward the protection of those lives who are under constant threat. It’s incredibly difficult to teach an old dog new tricks, but I still remain hopeful in mine and younger generations’ ability to learn from the mistakes made before us and even the ones we will inevitably make.

I appreciate those of you on my feed who have posted tangible things we all, but namely white people, can do to effect change, as well. Like most of you all, I am disturbed, sad, exhausted, a little numb, BUT I am going to continue to channel those slivers of hope that come during those periods between the waves of fear, and I hope y’all do too.

*Miss Ilesanmi, a medical doctor, lives in Winston Salem, North Carolina, US