It's amazing how much our childhoods affect us.
In this season of ministry preparation, I am being challenged to face some of my issues. Below is a breakdown of the events and revelations with which I've been dealing.

• 2016 - I iced Melissa McCall out for a while because I felt uncomfortable with her intrusiveness about my state of well-being upon Chris' passing. I did not like how she contacted friends without telling me. I also did not like how she tried to gain new friends on the back of a tragedy I had experienced.
• 2016-2018 - I retreated from Torrey a few times when I felt frustrated by things he would say or rejected when he wouldn't reciprocate my invitations or clearly state his interest. I was harsh and short with him a few times, unable to simply ask him why he was contacting me if he didn't like me. I had too much pride to hang out with him - as a third wheel - or to join his ministry when I moved back to Charlottesville. I still liked him, but it didn't matter because moved on with Mel.
• 2018 - I began to avoid Aunt Beck when I moved back home because I was unable to tell her that I didn't think playing for the Voices would be wise due to how I thought I would interact with Shawn and how I perceived that group to be cliquish. The first thing she said when I announced that I was moving back home to join UVA's faculty was that I could play for the voices. No congratulations. Just expectation.
• 2019 - I breadcrumbed Kris Bowmaster and then phased myself out once he told me of his bipolar condition and his past bisexual encounters. We are on better terms now. I believe he is engaged to Krista and I wish them both well. He is, perhaps, the best communicator I've encountered. I can give credit where credit is due.
• 2019 - I abruptly cut things off with Onan when I kept seeing the name Tiffany Carter on his phone and took those instances as confirmation that he was dealing with someone else. I then adopted the same behavior in Spring 2024 when he neglected to get back in touch after an impromptu visit to Charlottesville. At this time, I'm still not talking to him because I've seen him as inconsistent, inconsiderate, and negative. I have not figured out how to tell him that even though he has tried to contact me several times since then. I wish I had another way of dealing with that and I fear I've hurt him more than I have intended to.
• 2020ish - I began to put up distance between myself and Gwen and Eric because I was tired of feeling like the third-wheel, feeling like my work and decisions were discussed without me, and feeling resentful because - from my view - Eric received access, information, and warmth from Gwen that I didn't get.
• 2022 - I began to be more guarded with GDP after calling her in the wake of the EOK lifting of rhetorical impatience and hearing her downplay that rhetorical impatience was my work. I began to sense that GDP only valued me for professional labor things like co-chairing a conference or social labor things like being around in social situations where she might have felt uncomfortable. I cemented this in my head because because she never shared writing opportunities with me the way she does with EDP or Stephanie. I also remembered the ways she would lash out at me in stressful situations (such as planning C's or being too much of a "pest" by calling her when I was anxious about the dissertation) or when she felt insecure (such as the time when she yelled at me for seeming too grateful for advice from Vivian May, one of her white colleagues) or keeping secrets about jobs she had applied to like Texas Christian University. When I began to think about how comfortable I was writing and how confident I used to be prior to the Dissertation Process, I grew resentful.
• 2023 - I began to practice avoidance with EDP and then agreed on this strategy after an uncomfortable Zoom call where I tried to apologize, but I felt they were too combative and accusatory.
• 2023-ish - I began to withdraw from Robert Miller after being uncomfortable about his off-hand remarks about my salary and what I perceived as his lack of gratitude when borrowing money from me.
• 2024 - I began to avoid Andre Key after I realized what kind of schedule he had me on, one where he would only contact me when he was in his car. I did not have the language to tell him some of the other issues that I didn't like (his cheapness, our differing opinions on some gender issues, his inaccessibility and sarcastic tone when he couldn't reach me).

There may be others to add to this list, but I share these to take stock of how much I've practiced oavoidance these last few years. I need to change, but I must take account of how and why I practice this in order to make different and better decisions.
And so, here's what I came to learn today during my conversation with Miguel.

1. Some of the apologies I have prided myself upon offering didn't change anything because I was not honest with the other person about how they wounded me. The way I continued to practice avoidance after my conversations with EDP and Aunt Beck is because I was not brave enough to hold them accountable. I came to those conversations ready to take my accountability for hurting them and ready to give them the assurance that I knew I had messed up, I was remorseful, and I would accept the fault for acting the way I did. What I did not do, however, is to explain the why behind my behaviors. I did lead with the wounds I felt that made me feel shame, hurt, or embarrassment. I did not honor myself enough to be unapologetic about the way certain environments make me feel insecure, overlooked, devalued, and unappreciated. As such, I gave those people what I thought would please them in that moment - an acknowledgment and apology - but I ultimately displeased them because I could not change my behavior when I still had not addressed the real source of my wounds. I left unstated and untreated how my actions were often reactions to other, deeper wounds.
2. Making others feel better is a coping strategy I've developed in order to make myself feel safe. The way I try to give people apologies is because I have a guilt mechanism that is not always beneficial to me. Hear me out: people deserve apologies when they have been wronged, but I deserve that too. My focus on prioritizing the other person and their feelings stems from some of the messages I downloaded early in life about my own likability. I picked up the message as a child that I am not liked through a combination of uncomfortable conflicts where people have spitefully called out things about me that I cannot control (e.g. my skin tone, my only child status), or by observing people give more stuff or attention to my peers in front of my face. Little Tamika began to deal with this by becoming an achiever. I reasoned that if I earned A's or played the piano I would get compliments and praise. As a teen, I dealt with this by sharpening my wit. I reasoned that if I was funny or cool I could escape the discomfort of being unliked. The result of these strategies is that I would cater to others' feelings first and then cater to my own, if at all. I didn't learn how to correct others when they violated me because I didn't really believe they liked me. Eventually, I learned to adapt to my environment rather than being true to myself, communicating, and becoming a self-advocate. And, perhaps worse than this, I began to convince myself that I could find another mentor, friend group, significant other if things didn't work out.

So what do you do now?
Work on your inside stuff by:

1. Forgiving yourself for being inconsistent. Your failed apologies and inconsistency is not from a place of wanting to hurt people. It is the result of not advocating enough for yourself when you needed to. You were still hurting after you gave those apologies and so your avoidant behavior continued. You were afraid that if you really showed people or told people what they did to you that they would leave you and prove true the message that you are not liked. And so, even when you try to clean up what you messed up, you never tell the other person that they also had a hand in the mess. Your resentment continues and you can't get yourself together enough to resume the friendship as it was. It becomes easier for you to just stay away even though you were the one who apologized.
2. Forgiving yourself for not being honest with yourself and about yourself. You went to Syracuse wanting to study the Black church and came out having written a dissertation that critiques some of its most prominent messengers. You made some of these choices and changes because you didn't see another way to finish that degree, but you were not always true about who you are and what you feel. You've tried to conceal things about yourself to avoid criticism and punishment, but you've hurt yourself and others in the process.

Work on your outside interactions by:

1. Putting yourself and your well-being back into your communication: You may need to change how you communicate. Instead of just jumping into giving another person an apology, make them aware of your expectations or your disappointments. Consider leading with "I was feeling this way because... and the behaviors/things I've said that hurt you are a reflection of this. I want to own my part in that and tell you I am sorry about my behavior. I also want to be true to myself and tell you that I've been hurting about ..."
2. Trying to be more vulnerable. It's getting late in the day, Mika. It's time for you to be more clear in your purpose and what you have been created to do and be. You've got to tell time better by prioritizing purposeful living and work rather than your adaptation and reinvention. At some point God is going to answer your prayers for partnership or a family. Will you be able to see when this happens and or enjoy it if you are off trying to recreate yourself again? Ask God for clear direction, and ask God to put people in your life who see you as God sees you and has the capacity to walk life with you.
3. Being more disciplined. Your elevation may cause others to resent you, but come what may, those folks who you want affirmation from won't give it to you because your walk has been so different. Make God your mentor. Let go of your expectations of GPD and Dr. E. Some of them won't give you praise because of how far your journey has brought you. Unlike some of your peers, you didn't start off at a 2/2, high researching, prestigious University. You started at a small college, teaching a 4/4. You wrote a book that didn't win any awards at that first, but it is still discussed reviewed. Now you are a named professor. You are waiting for praise from people who may now see you as an opponent. If you develop the discipline to trust God enough to keep writing, God will bless you in ways that no one else will be able to lay claim to or latch on to in the future. Try to keep your mind clear of distractions and try to value the resources you already have. Become disciplined enough to trust that you are already prepared and capable.

This is another facet of your emotional comps. Keep going.  

There is a pretty popular reddit group called AITA. In it, people post anonymous scenarios soliciting advice. Some of the stories are of outrageous offenses. People sleeping with their best-friend’s mates and things like that. Other stories detail less in-your-face transgressions. The point of these stories is to figure out who is at fault, and who is accountable. Apparently, strangers and bots online are supposed to have the objectivity that the writer lacks, even as the writer has crafted the story from their own perspective.

“AITA” is the secular version of the question I’ve found myself posing this week. After leading and playing during two services on Sunday, cramming to finish my reading for class this past Monday, teaching two courses online during Tuesday’s snow event, and then recovering Wednesday, I felt myself dropping into that low energy and sad place. These moments when I’ve been alone in my house for days on end make me very reflective and lonely. I question why my life feels so empty as an accomplished, single woman with no kids. Of course, I acknowledge the blessings, but I also feel sad that I don’t have people with whom to share my blessings. It’s a predictable cycle.
And yet, even though I asked for my mother to pray over me Wednesday night after a bout of the “ments,” or what I see as any combination of disappointment, resentment, judgment/self-judgment, or disillusionment, I turned the attention inward. After hearing a tiktoker describe the prayer they began to pray, I started reflect on my own hand in my loneliness. The TikToker’s prayer is:
“God, if I am the problem, correct me, and if I am not the problem, protect me.”
It’s a simple prayer, right?
Not so much.
As I’ve been reflecting on this prayer, I’ve come to the conclusion that the lack of friends I have and the lack of relationship prospects I have is largely my fault. I’m not ready for certain longstanding quality relationships because I don’t know how to forgive others. Sometimes, before I’ve even experienced hurt I will retreat/avoid/draw into myself . Other times, I use this as a way to go heal, leaving the other person to figure out why I’ve pulled away.
Why is this wrong?

1. Your silence is cruel - Think of all that you discovered while you were trying to work your way to forgiving Brent.
2. Your silence is automatic judgement - You don’t give people opportunities to course correct. Think of how Rhonda asked “How can I fix this?” after the Yard Sale Meeting.
3. Your silence hands the narrative power over to others - When you don’t communicate, you give the other participants control of the story. 

Fortunately, as of August 31st, you made some strides where this set of emotional comps is concerned. You’ve broken silence with Sami and Brent. You’ve communicated a hurt to Rhonda.
You’re not all the way there yet, but you are not TA… 

*originally posted on Begin Again (Wordpress) 2/14/2025

Today I was listening to the an episode of "The Black Woman Opt Out" podcast. The show is an extension of "The Black Woman Opt Out," a movement that emerged out of this group's fatigue. The website describing "The Black Woman Opt Out" reads: 

THE MOVEMENTBlack women are TIRED.  We are at a crossroads in our life where the pull to lead a softer, less busy life is winning over the self important titles, pleasing others, and being Super Woman.  
Welcome to The Black Woman Opt Out – more than just a podcast, it's a revolutionary lifestyle pivot. In a world that constantly demands more from Black women, we've created a haven where tired souls can find solace. We understand that the juggling act of modern life has left us yearning for simplicity, balance, and empowerment.
Our podcast dives deep into the experiences, challenges, and triumphs of Black women who have courageously chosen to opt outof the chaosand prioritize their well-being. Join us on this transformative journey as we explore insightful conversations, practical strategies, and inspiring stories that resonate with every facet of your life. The Black Woman Opt Out Podcast isn't just a movement; it's an embodiment of the change we so desperately seek. It's time to embrace a new way of living, unapologetically centered around our own joy and fulfillment.
(https://www.theblackwomanoptout.com/?page=4)
​
If I've encountered one narrative like this, I've encountered twenty. The capital TIRED in this description is meant as emphasis here, but I prefer to register it as volume. I want to lean into the loud as well as the soft expressions of fatigue among Black women, a group whose "mythic" strength is the subject of tropes and theories.

The purpose of this study is to understand how Black women's fatigue becomes usable in terms of clarifying the conditions that shape their lives as well as the literacies and pedagogies that promote their respect, safety, pleasure, and joy in the future.

I imagine this focus on the usability of Black women's fatigue comes across as odd or, worse still, appropriative. As I illustrated in Rhetorical Healing: The Reeducation of Contemporary Black Womanhood, my study of the reactionary wellness campaigns directed towards members of this group that emerged after the Black Women's Literary Renaissance, learning cures, or the impulse to teach or instruct as a way to ensure wellness, can be highjacked for other purposes. Black women, as I have always maintained, have historically had a deep investment in the potential of literacy and learning and sometimes those conversations have been encoded in discussions of healing. Yet, even when well-meaning individuals have come forward with what appeared to be well-intentioned instructions or pathways to wellness, the rhetorics and curricula they've marketed to Black women have sometimes been undercut by regressive labor-politics and antifeminist agendas. 

With this project, I want to pick up where I left of in that book, namely in my contention that Black women are a race for healing. I borrowed that phrasing from the late literary critic Barbara Christian in her essay "The Race for Theory" because it was the first piece I was assigned to read on the first day of my Black Feminist Rhetorics graduate seminar. At that time, Christian's essay cleared ground for me to see a variety of discursive practices and meaning making projects among Black women, and it oriented me to see those landscapes of "pithy words" and "stories" as a tradition of theorizing that had been happening all the time. Her words, even back then, helped me to solidify my investment in studying what was written by us and to us without apology.

Now that I've been assigning Christian's essay as the first homework assignment for the Black Women's Rhetoric courses I teach, the claim that Black women are a race for healing is different for me. When I finished Rhetorical Healing, the gravity of how short Christian's career and life ended up being had not yet registered for me. I could not conceive of how many Black women academics I would know or know of who would battle diseases like cancer, or as succumb to it as Christian did, and I could not foresee how many would be run down, run out, and run over to the point that they would resign. I could not imagine then how many Black women across socioeconomic class would eventually begin to openly discuss battles with depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation that African American communities have historically admonished each other to keep quiet. I certainly could not have predicted how my own experience with sudden loss and its resulting grief would become a trauma that has changed me. I didn't know any of this when I vowed to "stay in this race" at the end of Rhetorical Healing.

And so, I'm checking back into this race with this course on fatigue because, at this point in time, my investment has to be different. Whereas Rhetorical Healing set out to understand the rhetorical competencies and consequences inherent in African Americans' attempt to repair issues affecting Black women, I am stepping back here to center and listen to what Black women have and are saying when they talk about fatigue. I am tuning into what their loud, soft, unspoken, and performed expressions of fatigue and recommendations of repair require of us. I am in this race for the women we have lost and the ones we are losing. I am in it for my claimed daughters because I need them to survive. And yes, I am in this race for myself. Because I deserve healing and wellness too. 

*Posted on Begin Again (Wordpress) 4/1/2024