When was the last time you were uncomfortable? I am not talking about a tag in your shirt scratching the back of your neck uncomfortable or having to sit at the back bar area in upstairs Lowry because all the tables are full uncomfortable. I want you to think of the last time you were uncomfortable speaking up when you felt something was incorrect or wrong, whether that had been in a classroom or in a friend group. I want you to think of the last time you did not understand something and were too uncomfortable to talk about it in fear of being wrong, but most of all, I want you to know you are not alone. I find myself in uncomfortable situations so often that uncomfortableness has become the norm. I will, however, pass some judgment if you allow the fear of uncomfortableness to make your actions passive and your life unchallenged.
As I write this on Dr. King’s day, I reflect to my childhood where the feeling of being uncomfortable was my mom forcing my siblings, cousins and me to attend the Martin Luther King Jr. parades with the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP). I remember wearing my largest coat, walking down Martin Luther King Blvd. and screaming a catchy chant over and over again until my voice went hoarse. I did not know why we had to participate in a march on a day off from school when we could be sitting in the comfort of our home watching Brandy & Mr. Whiskers and eating Totino’s Pizza Rolls.
It wasn’t until high school that I realized I was uncomfortable because I did not understand why we had to celebrate Dr. King, because life was supposed to better and have had improved. I did not like chanting about fighting to be free, because we are free, right? I lacked the knowledge needed to understand my discomfort. Therefore, I did not realize what discrimination and police brutality was until Freddie Grey’s death and how I had been cultivated to fear young black boys like my brother. I did not understand disparity until I attended three different high schools and realized the amelioration of my education and resources increased as the number of white students increased and non-white students decreased. I was uncomfortable with how the media portrayed people I identified with but never questioned the portrayals. Understand that my previous mistake had nothing to do with my lack of knowledge and everything to do with my content in not knowing and not understanding why things were the way they were and why I was uncomfortable.
The only way we can truly honor Dr. King is by honoring ourselves. I don’t mean that we all deserve a parade with our own specialized chant, but if we validate our own experiences and discomforts, we can begin to initiate the kind of honesty our keynote speaker Darnell Moore mentioned when addressing us in McGaw.
As a low-income, queer, black woman who was raised in Baltimore City, I have been conditioned to believe my voice has no value except for in determined, restricted and facilitated spaces. We must learn to resist these spaces. Do not run from uncomfortable situations and discomfort; try to understand them. It is when you are challenged and push through that you truly learn. Celebrate accomplishments of the past, but use every day as an opportunity to contribute to yourself. Darnell Moore encouraged us to be our own saviors and to not wait for someone else to fix the issues we all see. Engage in conversations where you don’t know the terminology. Mess up and do better next time. Advocate for yourself and for others; it will not be easy and you will be uncomfortable.
Stachal Harris, a Contributing Writer for the Voice, can be reached for comment at SHarris21@wooster.edu.