Fastward some weeks and kindergarten began. My teacher went around the room to all the students sitting in what is now called “criss-cross-applesauce.” When she got to me, she asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I froze. I didn’t know. She went through some options quickly. “Would you want to be a doctor or lawyer?” I said, “Lawyer.” She went on to the next student. Truth is, I didn't know what a lawyer was or what they did. I just liked how it sounded. I asked my mom about it when I got home. After she explained their role, I was good with it. It was a sudden decision. But, I held on to it as my career choice until my senior year in college: I was going to be a lawyer.
A lot happened after that day in kindergarten. As a college student, I loved everything about criminal justice. However, going to law school didn't seem to fit my life at that time. I decided against it my first semester of my senior year. I graduated from undergrad and accepted a job unrelated to my dream or degree. I stayed there for about two months before I determined I couldn’t continue that way. I applied for a Master of Social Work program and was accepted. Once accepted, I had a new language to learn. Social work was so different from criminal justice. It was two different mindsets and systems. It was a new world for me. I adjusted and graduated with an MSW in May 2010.
Read MoreI wrote Big Mama Was Wrong: Exploring Mental Health and Today’s Black Teens because I wanted it to be a resource. My goal was to enlighten parents, caregivers, and others about the stigmas I have observed as a mental health clinician for children and adolescents. I wanted conversations with therapists to be less embarrassing or scary. I also wanted others to understand the importance of seeking help, the type of help available, and some signs that seeking help may be necessary. I noticed patterns and realized that mental health within the Black community was the road less traveled but could have helped so many others along their journeys if they considered it.
Read MoreTruth moment: I lowkey judged people who lost loved ones but continued to gather like we weren’t in a pandemic. As I write this, my grandmother officially transitioned from Earth about 4 hours ago, and all I can think of is how badly and tightly I want to hug my daddy-as unsafe as it is in a time like this. This was not the first family death that I’ve experienced since the pandemic. Nearly a year ago, I lost an aunt to COVID. I refrained from writing or speaking publically about it because I did not want to be insensitive to my family. But here’s the truth: virtually grieving was hard. Abbreviated gatherings seemed insufficient. But it’s where we are right now.
My introduction was written over three months ago when my grandma died. As of yesterday, my aunt has been deceased for one year. We don’t miss them any less. I come from large families: My mother is 1 of 13, and my father is 1 of 13. So, I have aunties, uncles, and cousins for days and days. Huge families are everything! Family gatherings are too! I’ve missed gathering while forced to grieve during the pandemic. My families are the types to celebrate and show love as units. Watching my aunt’s funeral via Facebook Live intensified my hurt because I was separated from my mom. We were fortunate. Some restrictions were lifted so we could gather in a small crowd when it was time to see my grandmother off. That was enough to be grateful for.
Read MoreOne day I was sitting at lunch as I thought about the systems of our country. I realized how difficult it is for a child to win with statistics stacked against them. Working with youth involved in the juvenile justice system has made the covert plans for Blacks apparent. But the justice system isn’t the only system that oppresses Blacks: there’s the workforce, education, healthcare, housing, plus some.
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