Along this path through American history my people have forgotten how to dream. My people are playing their part in making the black/white problem normal. How can you blame us? Our concept of “reality” constantly proves the impossibilities of our imagination, our creativity. What is real, for folks like us, has no conditions. Unfortunately, reality does not await the actions of people of color; we are still mystified, lost to ourselves.
Tribal relationships—unions of people that involve romance and creativity—are hard to maintain because of conflicting worldviews. What it means to be a man or womyn in love causes problems for many tribes because their demands and dreams clash without a middle ground. Since I’m raised to be a black male by other black males, my performance as one resembles a group formation. Many of us have not constructed our own look at the world, have not questioned our comfort with not talking about how we feel. Instead, we renew our loyalty to the template of an unhealthy black male. All this goes said to shed light on the complications of love: the group template of any individual prevents a real communication with others.
Several months ago, I decided that enough was enough and I started to see a therapist. It wasn’t that the stress was new. I have seen stress in my life but I have always found a way to cope, but not this time. Whether it was the ever-growing to-do list at work, the growing intensity of my relationship with my boyfriend and the expectations that came with it, my changing family dynamic or a combination of those things that finally pushed me over the edge, I will never know.
At the time, it seemed like I just couldn’t keep my head straight. Every ten minutes I wanted to cry, scream or walk out on something and I’ve never been anything other than willing to take on obstacles head first. Talking to friends and family about these things just wasn’t working. So I started to do some research. I started with a simple Google search that led nowhere. I was so embarrassed about searching for “therapists in Houston” that I deleted the search from my browser history. After a couple days, the decision to see a therapist or not was a source of anxiety.