Even our tears wear shackles: On knowing and needing to be Black and Emotionally Well, part 1: Faking Good

I can recall wanting to scream, that was first. I was quite in a rage, but was well across that bridge, somewhere between frustration and panic. I was breathing ever so shallow in that small human space where you know and live the feeling, but can’t quite find the words. I had, through lived and repeated…