120. The Power of Saying "No"
SUMMARY
Naomi Osaka. Simone Biles. What do they have in common beyond their elite athletic achievements? They’re the latest in a growing number of Black women who’ve publicly pushed back against an unrelenting narrative that minimizes their physical, mental, and emotional wellbeing––their humanness.
Erica celebrates the power and courageousness of invoking the word NO! in a world that continues to label Black women as both too much and never enough.
In this discussion:
Acknowledging Black exhaustion
Unpacking internal resistance to saying “no”
Amplifying our worth and value as people, not commodities, out loud
Reclaiming our autonomy related to our physical, emotional, and mental well-being
Creating safe spaces for ourselves and others to own their “no”
Witnessing Black women and honoring us in our everyday existence
Keep The Dialogue Going
Explore worlds outside of your normal, witness and honor the beauty of alternative versions, and learn by example how to live out loud. Join Erica Courdae and India Jackson at Dropping The Veil, their 3-day virtual event featuring a diverse panel of guests. Thursday, August 12 through Saturday, August 14. Details at pauseontheplay.com/events.
Article
Unless you’re completely cut off from, well, everything, you’ve witnessed at least some of the recent conversation centering on what Erica calls Black women being tired and letting everyone know they're tired by just saying “no.” Period. Point-blank. “Giving zero fucks and being done,” she says. That’s not new. “We've been tired for a long time. And there has been this place of, we have resistance to saying ‘no.’”
Resistance may arise for many reasons. Fear. Apprehension. Uncertainty. Pick any word you want; the outcome is the same: we don’t hear “no” often enough because of what might be on the other side of that word. “I have been elated and over the moon for every single Black woman that I have watched not only say ‘no,’ but to be clear as to why and to set such a powerful example of what's possible when you finally prioritize yourself and you reclaim your worth and your value that you inherently know as it is to be versus what other people say that it is,” Erica says.
Black women juggle multiple roles at once. Caretakers. Healers. Problem fixers. “And, you know, [we] set the bar really high on so many things. And there's this, ‘okay, if I say ‘no,’ what does that mean? Does that mean you'll forget about me? Does that mean I won't have the same level of relevancy? Does it mean that you'll just replace me?” Erica asks, noting that the world deems Black women as easily replaceable. “And yet, at the same time, our worth and our value...we know what it is internally, but others love to base it on what we've done, what we've achieved. How good we are at something. How not good we are. If we're talking about what we don't have, how we're not as good anymore. How us being good somehow takes away from someone else.” The dangerous flip side is that if someone else is good, then Black women just need to work harder. “There's this really shitty dichotomy that doesn't allow where we excel to simply be where we excel, and us to still be human in and of ourselves, and it not have anything to do with what we do.”
There is always a minimizing of what matters for Black women. “Our mental health is a huge one. Our physical well-being is a huge one,” Erica reminds us. “And, to finally be like, ‘Hell no! I'm going to put me first!’ is inspiring as fuck when I watch Naomi Osaka and Simone Biles say ‘No!’ at a stage where most individuals would feel like, ‘Oh my gosh, how could you say no? You've gotten to this point; you have to say yes!’ That is such a damaging conversation to put out there because who else is hearing that?” Erica asks. “Who are you subtly programming––or not so subtly––that you get to a certain level and you can't say ‘no?’ You no longer have any autonomy over your mental, physical, emotional, you know, any of the pieces of you that need to be kept well. Now they don't matter because it is public collateral. And that's not okay. Our bodies are not rented out for you to watch us on television or listen to us through your earbuds, and we are simply the vessel and don't matter outside of that. No, it's not okay.”
Black women have to acknowledge that our public persona is just that. “Who we are as individuals is not the same person that you might tune into. The reason that I'm separating it is because this person that you are watching, this person is putting out there what they feel like they need to and, so often, they're swallowing away the things that they feel aren't as palatable or they're told are going to hurt their image.” Erica says. “They're being what they think they need to be in that moment, and they could very well be in pain.”
The world watched Sha’Carri Richardson killing it out on the track recently, in the immediate aftermath and trauma of her mother’s death. “What you saw may not have been what she was feeling. And so I don't separate it because it’s as if they are not still that person, but let's be clear that that luxury of showing up fully in all of your pain, your hurt, your glory, your agony, your happiness, all of these things, that's not always accessible. So, therefore, we kind of pocket some of those for later, and we take on this public persona,” Erica says, adding, “There's too often that our identity doesn't feel like our own.”
In that same vein, there’s the constant wondering: Is it safe for a Black woman to show up in the full expression of their identity? Naomi Osaka experienced this when she pulled out of competition to protect her mental health. She didn't feel like it was safe to be who she was. So she said ‘no.’ That's not something everyone has access to, nor do they even consider themselves to have that access.
“You know, all of the accolades that [Naomi Osaka] and Simone Biles have racked up over the years through all of the hard work and tenacity and perseverance and talent that they have put out there and showcased,” Erica says, “they're fucking everything! So, they have done all of this, yet people have equated their value in the world as humans with those medals, with those accolades or lack thereof. And because somebody said, ‘I'm not going to do this because I'm not willing,’ you don't get to take anything away from them. You haven't even done what they've done. You haven't even attempted! Y'all could never! Y'all do all of this talking about them, and it's like, no, no, no, no! Number one, walk in their shoes for a minute and just be a Black woman. Second of all, they have worked their asses off. However, don't minimize them to that. They are still humans; they are people. They are in relationships with individuals. They have loves. They have likes. They have dislikes. They have hopes. They have dreams. They are so much more than that.”
Remember back to the beginning of this convo, about how this isn't a new phenomenon where the narrative swirling around Black women is concerned? Serena Williams proves the point. She created a persona, yet still some people view her the way they want to view her. “But let me tell you what, that woman is every goddamn thing,” Erica says. “And she has created a persona that reminds us that she had to work hard. That wasn't given to her. She had a narrative about her that, in a lot of people's minds, still exists. But she had to actively work to craft a narrative about herself that was out for the public. I was here for all of it because she's just Black girl magic. Period. All-day, every day.”
And yet, there’s always somebody that has something to say––about Serena, Naomi, Sha’Carri… “You know, women like this are constantly having to kind of weigh out what do I lose versus what do I gain when I do this? And, honestly, there's a point that I'm like, but did you really lose anything if it was fuck-shit?” Erica asks. It sounds like a lot of the “conversations” about these Black women superstars is unnecessary insight that’s really just passing judgment because the folks stirring it up want to feel as though they have a platform and a reason to talk about somebody because nobody’s talking about them. “Please check yourself,” Erica advises. “And, as a Black woman, while I am by no means saying that I am these women, at the same time, I get it and I am; we are all Black women, and we understand what that struggle is. We understand what that pain is. We understand this constant tight-rope of too much and not-enoughness that we are balancing second-to-second, every single day, this balance of, ‘I need to take care of me and I need to be “fill-in-the-blank” out loud.’ We have to do this every single day.”
Erica pauses to acknowledge her gratitude for the platform and the ability she has to literally utilize her voice, mind, and POV to move the needle. “To shift things, to create change,” she says. “I am immensely grateful for it, and...there are days that, from a mental health standpoint, I just want to hide, and I want to sleep. And I want to say nothing. You’re constantly trying to figure out how you can do both? How can I be a mother? How can I be an individual? How can I be a friend? How can I be a partner? How can I be, you know, all of these different aspects of who I am, who I can be, who I want to be while also being part of a support system for others, being a DEI coach, being a consultant to help people to shift things in their businesses in order to create equity on the way to equality? There's so many hats that I wear, and sometimes this head gets weary. I understand from my point of view how that can feel. And, at the same time, I can glimpse what it must feel like on such a larger, more amplified, invisible stage. And so, to each and every Black woman that is visible to others in their everyday life or to those that simply exist and nobody knows what else is happening, to each and every one of you, I love you. I am witnessing you. I feel the exhaustion that you may be shouldering, and I send love. I send solidarity.”
For everyone else in this community and beyond, Erica says, “I send [you] empathy that I hope you send back to us as we provide our own empathy that there is also so much value when that same empathy can be mirrored back to us.”
Quoted
Erica Courdae
“There's this really shitty dichotomy that doesn't allow where we excel to simply be where we excel and us to still be human in and of ourselves.”
“Our bodies are not rented out for you to watch us on television or to listen to us through your earbuds, and we are simply the vessel and don't matter outside of that. No, it's not okay.”
“As a Black woman, while I am by no means saying that I am these women. At the same time, I get it, and I am; we are all Black women, and we understand what that struggle is. We understand what that pain is. We understand this constant tight-rope of too much and not-enoughness that we are balancing second-to-second, every single day.”
“There's so many hats that I wear, and sometimes this head gets weary.”
“To each and every Black woman that is visible to others in their everyday life or to those that simply exists and nobody knows what else is happening, to each and every one of you, I love you. I am witnessing you. I feel the exhaustion that you may be shouldering, and I send love. I send solidarity.”