...and this week we touched on dealing with emotional pain that comes with the territory of being a smart Black girl in a doctoral program in whitebread America.
I shared with the group that the part of my life that I am most dissatisfied with is my love life. Not that I want to up and get married in the next year or something, but it would be nice to have someone, a partner, someone to lean on.
I can't remember the last time I had a man call me up just to hang out or stay in a watch Blockbuster movies. The last time a man touched me was.... well, I can't even remember. This shit hurts. If touch and physical affection are human needs, I am drastically deprived. My shit is on empty.
One of the group members said something that resonated with me. She described this environment as "social assault" on Black women. In such an overly-competitive, academic environment, our professional colleagues aren't especially friendly and welcoming. Our social environment is overwhelmingly comprised of people who don't see me except as a caricature. There aren't many brothas to speak of. And when I'm in arenas with our brothas I don't necessarily feel especially loved or supported either. The reality is it's extremely isolating and oftentimes hostile to one's sense of self.
When I'm not numb to the pain, it swells and throbs and aches. And this is how we end up in therapy.
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