I can eat and comb my hair

i used to dream militant

dreams of taking

over america to show

these white folks how it should be

done

i used to dream radical dreams

of blowing everyone away with my perceptive powers

of correct analysis

i even used to think i’d be the one

to stop the riot and negotiate the peace

then i awoke and dug

that if i dreamed natural

dreams of being a natural

woman doing what a woman

does when she’s natural

i would have a revolution

-Revolutionary Dreams, Nikki Giovanni (1996)

I recently started a new job. I was talking with a colleague who was checking in on me, to see how the transition was going. I gave her an overview of things that were going well and told her where I was working through challenges. Then I said to her, “…but my non- negotiables are to make sure that I eat and comb my hair.” We went our separate ways but later that day, that statement was still with me. I wondered what my colleague must have thought to hear me say that in relation to my working self. I considered that some people might not understand why it was such a momentous achievement to set and live this type of boundary, but for me, it has been a revolutionary act.

I have always known that I was meant to be an educator. I’ve always felt like my work is my vocation and have spent most of my life, since I was 8 years old, working to live this purpose. I have had the opportunity to teach, lead, learn, and grow with many different communities in a variety of roles. In every single space, I have given nearly every inch of myself, energy, and spirit towards what I view as freedom work with our children and the people. Until recently, I never thought there was a problem with centering them and their needs, no matter the cost.

There were many days that turned into weeks, that eventually became months and years where I would not even notice that I was barely eating. I love food, making meals, trying new restaurants. My fondest memories are of spending time with my aunts learning how to bake cookies or how to season the chicken just right. When I looked in the mirror and realized that I could see bones I hadn’t always seen, I knew it was because I had lost my desire to eat. I had worked all day solving one problem to the next, being what I thought others needed me to be, and when I got home, remembered I hadn’t eaten all day. So, because I am a strong planner and knew how to get things done, I included time in my schedule to make meals and made myself eat something. I could tell the same type of story when it came to taking care of and staying in love with my hair.

I spent days feeling ‘fired up’ to do the work, and evenings feeling at my lowest, crying and frustrated, because I had convinced myself that I had failed someone in some way. I was coaching others to make sure they included themselves in the long list of people to care for, while simultaneously spending very little energy on the ways I needed to center myself. Although I am aware of the institutional systems of oppression that relied on me to ‘figure it out’ and be a ‘superwoman’, that left me to be what bell hooks (1993) describes as, ‘tragically overextended’; I went with it. I pushed myself to my limits, to the point of a breakdown, where I sadly found myself one day saying, “I no longer know who I am. I have lost my identity.”

I know that I have been able to do some good things for the people and communities of other educators. I know that my impact on children has been immeasurable, and I have accepted that being a revolutionary does not necessarily have to come at the cost of my personal liberation.

I am committed to being free and therefore, I am not writing this coming from any space of shame or disappointment in myself or my past ways of being. I am proud and do not regret any decision I have ever made. In an act of “critical affirmation” (hooks, 1993), I now actively make a practice of reminding myself of all the ways that I can and have, rather than spending my thoughts focusing on how I cannot. As a leader and coach, particularly in my work with other Black women, it is important that I model a type of self-reflection that is rooted in self-compassion and self-care.

In imagining a reality for Black women where we can show up in professional spaces as our whole, healthy selves; I see a work space that includes prioritizing wellness, liberatory process, and community. I know that organizational leaders can value both urgency and humanity. We can give voice to examples of empathy, collaborative decision-making, leveraging what is working, as well as allowing for space to feel, and just be. This does not mean that I have always done things this way, but who I am now requires that I figure out how to be a part of co-creating more people-centered spaces in the future.

Black women can enter into professional spaces doing work that is connected to uplifting our communities. We can prioritize the health of the community and will work diligently towards this mission. We can also do all of this, at times, to the detriment of our own wellness. I propose that it is possible to live a fulfilling work life and also move ourselves closer to self-actualization. We can do impactful, high quality work, eat, and comb our hair.

For me, this looks like sustaining trusting relationships with those I partner with and consistently communicating my priorities. It looks like pushing myself to speak up in spaces that may not be used to hearing ideas that center everyday anti-racism and community. It looks like creating spaces to share my feelings and heal when I am harmed from institutional racism that I experience from day to day. It also looks like including myself, my wellness, and my growth as a part of my commitment to freedom for everyone. My hope is that we continue to create organizational spaces where this is possible for all people, and particularly for Black women.

In Solidarity,

Dr. LeAnna Majors

References:

bell hooks. (1993). Sisters of the Yam. South End Press.

Nikki Giovanni. “Revolutionary Dreams.” (1996). The Collected Poetry of Nikki Giovanni 1968–1998. Harper-Collins Press.