1:00 I am so glad that you joined me for another chat. Today it’s going to be a little bit different. I want to talk about my life and I want to talk about my life in a particular context because if you have been around me or you follow me on social media for a while in these Internet streets or you come across my picture you probably picked up on a little something by now, however if you haven’t seen me and you’re just hearing me maybe you’re joining this episode for the first time the one thing that you should know about me is that I’m black. All day, every day, I’m black OK I love being black, being black is amazing being black is my birthright. I was born into this life and I wake up every morning looking in the mirror and thanking God that he made me black.

2:00 But one thing that I don’t share as often is that I didn’t always grow up being around black people. Now of course my family is Black, my church was Black, my neighborhood was mostly Black, and the general community that I was a part of was Black. For the majority of my formative years as an adolescent, teenager and into young adulthood, I went to predominantly white schools. I attended a Catholic middle school, and high school where very few of my classmates looked like me. And during this time in my youth and adolescence, always was reminded that being black made me different. I was also very aware that people may look at me different or treat me different and that my competition in school may be a different experience for me because of my blackness but those experiences also prepared me for what I would experience as an adult. It’s also important to understand that in this world I was coming from the city of Jackson Mississippi. That’s where my family lived, and it is one of the blackest cities in America and I was going to the next city which was predominantly white to attend school because the public schools in my area, which were predominantly Black, did not provide an environment for me to thrive academically, that is a whole nother story I’ll share later. So there was a part of me that was under the impression from a young age that attending these black public schools was not the best environment for me, because I couldn’t get what I needed to succeed and that the white private schools were better performing, better socially, better financially, better resources, better opportunities.

And I remember when my parents decided to take me out a public school and we went to go visit some of the potential private schools that I was going to go to and I remember feeling so out of my element. Everything just seems so weird it seemed like all these people were almost robots in a sense and it that’s the only way that I can I can think that my childhood brain could compute that experience but everything just seems so bright, like the actual lights were brighter than my public schools. It seems so orderly, it was systematic, like a well oiled machine, and it felt foreign, it was uncomfortable. Although my public school experience wasn’t the best, I was also used to being a part of that community of kids/students/teachers who looked like me, sounded like me, had similar interests to me, who could sing the same songs, and knew the same dances that I knew. So when I attended my first day at my new private school, I felt like a fish out of water and not even just out of water just out of the water that I was used to. And although I learned to adjust and eventually began to thrive academically, there was still something missing that I couldn’t quite grasp and now that I’m older I think that part of it is that that experience didn’t not allow me to be myself as a black person, as a black kid. I had to learn early on how to navigate a system that was never meant for me. It was never intended for me to walk those halls. It was not intended for me to sit in those desks. It was not intended for me to have the same opportunities as the white kids in my class. And I don’t think I was able to fully embrace my blackness, because my blackness was continually a threat to others. And I did not realize it at the time, but a lot of the white kids in my class had access to resources that I did not have. They had access to tutors and people in higher positions, and as the few black kids or one of the few black kids in the class I was coming home to a whole different city, trying to figure out how to make things work in an environment that was never meant for me. While the few black kids in my new school often stuck together and could relate to each other, it was still hard when none of us knew or could comprehend the system we were up against.

And now, also during this time while I was in high school, during the summers, I would attend a summer program for local high school students at my local HBCU (historically black college and university). It was basically an enrichment program, like going to school for the summer, we took math, language arts, and science classes and we were mentored by college students. It was at this time that I got to be around black college students, black teachers, black mentors, and black kids who looked like me. It was quite evident the difference in what I was receiving at my private school and what my summer classmates were receiving at their public schools, the same schools that I probably would have been attending had I not been going to private school. It got to a point where I was consistently the top student in my summer program but not because I was smarter than anyone else, but because my access to certain opportunities were different.  I was often working twice as hard to keep up with the white kids at my school while constantly trying to hold on to my Blackness. While in these Black spaces, I was so far ahead academically, but struggled to relate to my community in relation to my identity. There were conversations and experiences that I only got when I was around Black people. I knew that I loved the feeling of being around people who understood me.

And this isn’t just an experience that I had during my youth in adolescence. By the time I graduated high school, I had worked my way into the top 5 of my senior class. You could probably guess that the other 4 people were white. It was a lot of pressure to try to keep my spot and show my worth, so to speak that I belonged in this top spot. And of course I was representing for the Black folk. I caught myself debating between going to a historically, black college and university for my undergraduate career or attending a predominantly white private liberal arts school.

11:00 But ultimately what drove my decision at the age of 17 was that I had learned so much from my high school experience that I knew I needed to understand how to continue to navigate this system as a black person in a very white world into my adulthood and I knew that if I had experience that in high school that it will be more than likely that I will continue to experience something similar in college, and if that was the case, then this will better prepare me for how the world itself operates and I wanted to know the system in and out backwards and forwards upside down diagonal any way you twist and turn it I wanted to make sure that I knew the system because I knew that my skin color wasn’t going to change I was going to be black, and I knew that the world will see me as such and I wanted to be as prepared as possible. I wanted to be on guard and I knew that the only way to prepare myself was to be in that very environment. So I made a conscious decision to put myself in an environment full of people who did not look like me, so I could learn how the world would see me and how I would see the world. I don’t regret my decision. In fact, one of the most important lessons I learned was how to own my Blackness in these spaces.

As a matter of fact, one day, I believe I might have been a sophomore in college and I I had fallen in love with philosophy. So I was in this philosophy class and the first day I walk in and of course I know I’m in a predominantly white school so the first thing I’m looking for is how many black students are in this class. And interestingly enough. There was one other black student in the class. Now I’m looking at the syllabus and I’m seeing the different topics that we’re discussing and I see that one of them is on race at some point during the semester. So I’m already a little bit anxious about what this conversation is going to look like. So fast forward and we get to this point in the semester and is the topic on race and all I’m saying to myself “this other black student better show up because I’m not trying to have this discussion by myself in this class with all these white folk”. So I walked into the class and lo and behold the other black student did not show up that day. I guess they said “oh, not me, not me I am removing myself from this conversation” and maybe I should’ve taken the hint, but I didn’t. Our class starts, and in general the conversation is going pretty well. The teachers giving the lecture and the teacher, of course, is an older white male, but then he gets to a point in his lecture where he starts telling this story, and initially I didn’t know where this story was going so I’m already on pins and needles. So he starts talking about this one student, African-American female, that he had in his class and the student was from a military family so she moved around a lot and she never quite could fit in and she struggled with finding her identity and finding where she belongs and so apparently she came to this professor and she was emotional. She was in tears and she was expressing that essentially she was trying to make friends and find community, but her Black classmates said she was too white, and the white classmates couldn’t identify with her so she wasn’t included anywhere.  She burst out in tears saying “I don’t know what it means to be Black”. As he is sharing this part of the story, he has this confused look on his face as if he’s saying I don’t even know how to respond to that.

But then he looks straight at me, and I felt it coming but I didn’t know what was going to come out of his mouth. He said, “Joyee, what the hell did she mean by that?!” Then of course, every white face in the class turns around to look at me awaiting a response. I’m stunned because I’m just trying to process everything that is happening in this moment and I don’t know this young lady, I’m not this young lady so although I can relate on some level I can’t speak for her and her experience. To be honest, I shouldn’t be responsible for answering that type of question. But that moment caused me to reflect on my past experiences and what does it really mean to be Black, what does that identity mean to me and my experience especially in spaces where I am often misunderstood or seen as inferior or assumptions are made about my lived experience. And when I started to think about it and truly question what being Black means for me, I came to the conclusion that For me being Black means that my culture and my heritage shape and define how I move in this world and in this work.

18:00 Eventually, as I got older that moment in that philosophy class stuck with me, and as I begin to figure out my career, figure out what I wanted to do start working in research and public health, that lesson came in handy. Because we know historically that the public health, medicine, and research particularly in America was designed to benefit a specific group of people. In that process and in that system, Black people were experimented on, oppressed, dehumanized, colonized, and stripped of their dignity. But the fact that Black people, MY people, continued to rise above, continued to fight systems of oppression, continued to be revolutionary, continued to resist against the powers that be, that strength runs through my veins. But here is the hard part. Because of my lived experience, I see and understand the value of research, but I also want to protect my community. While I understand the transformative power of research, I also know that those in power and with power have done great harms with the tool of research and the access to the opportunities that they have. As a Black researcher, I’m constantly in this battle of trying to figure out how do I work against this system that was never created with me in mind in the first place, but also know that there are tools and resources in this research world that can serve my community well if done differently.

20:00 Being A Black Public Health Researcher is MY superpower, from the blood of my ancestors, that is my greatest gift that I use to drive positive change, but that comes with an even greater responsibility. That responsibility means challenging this system where my people have been intentionally excluded and neglected and that has been unsafe, in an effort to find our joy. Here’s is what that means to me in my life as a Black Researcher:

By being unapologetically Black, I proudly represent my culture and community in any space. I embrace and appreciate our diverse backgrounds and traditions. I celebrate the richness of our heritage while promoting health and well-being for all. That also means finding a community of people who I can identify with and that is why I am a proud member of the Association of Black Researchers (ABR), a non-profit organization with a vision for a future where Black Researchers have equal access to information, opportunities, funding, and leadership positions. But what is most important to me is that when I’m out in these spaces that don’t look like me, I know I have a place to call home, a community of people who support me and understand me. Last year, was the inaugural National Black Researchers Week where we took the time to create the space to celebrate this superpower and I have never felt more seen, more heard, and more connected as I have in this space. We are doing it again this year, June 19-23, 2023. This virtual event will be centered around the theme “Connecting Researchers to Resources,” providing participants with essential resources and tips for navigating their research journeys. I’m going to be there and I’ll be presenting on research software basics. Visit www.blackresarchers.org to learn more about National Black Researchers week.

I also know that in challenging this system and finding our joy as a Black researcher, I have a responsibility to respect others. I believe in treating every individual with dignity, empathy, compassion, and care and consistently evaluating what those words mean to me, the people I serve, and how these words translate to action. By fostering an environment of mutual respect, I can build trust and relationships within communities, creating a strong foundation for collaboration towards healthier lives. But that also means that I have to be a servant leader. By positioning myself as a public health researcher who thinks beyond responsibility, I humble myself and sit at the feet of the people I serve to create real change.

24:00 While these are certainly part of my life’s work, it’s also hard work that takes so much my energy. I also understand that being a Black researcher is a part of who I am, it is not all that I am. There have been so many parts of us that have been taken away in resisting against capitalism, white supremacy, oppression, colonization, that it is exhausting. Working ourselves to exhaustion to achieve liberation is not part of the goal. So I’ve learned that another part of life as a Black researcher and tapping into all the other parts of what makes me, me also includes creating a sacred space for rest. Not necessarily rest to be more productive or to do more work, but rest because that’s what I deserve, rest to rest and not feel guilty or under pressure. That is part of my humanity and building the relationship and connections between my mind, spirit and body. My body is the tool I use in my work, but also my body can be a tool for liberation. Our healing as a people, requires rest. Because when we rest, we can be. Being a Black researcher is not just about work, it’s also about creating the space to dream, imagine, and rest in a system that wants to treat us like machines. I’ve been reading about this concept in a book called “Rest is Resistance: A Manifesto” by Tricia Hersey also founder of The Nap Ministry. She said in her book that “rest is a healing portal to our deepest selves…Rest is radical”. In an earlier podcast episode this season, episode 1, we talked about radical healing. If you haven’t listened to it, definitely check it out. But we talked about the importance of rest, rejuvenation, and maintaining a healthy work-life balance as part of our healing process as public health researchers and professionals. By taking care of my well-being, I am in a better position to cultivate a community of care as we ensure sustainable and impactful contributions to public health.

There are so many of us who are feeling burnt out and exhausted. We are constantly working and never taking time for ourselves. We need a call to action for us to prioritize rest and self-care in our lives, and to resist the notion that we always have to be “on”. I am so excited to announce our book club for the month of July! We will be reading the book “Rest is Resistance” by Tricia Hersey, a powerful and inspiring book that highlights the importance of rest and self-care, especially for those of us in the BIPOC and public health communities.

Through this book club and interactive workshop, we will be exploring how we can liberate ourselves through rest and having meaningful discussions about how we can apply these concepts to our own lives. We will also be providing resources and tools for you to practice self-care and rest. You can join us for a month of reflection, connection, and growth by checking out https://www.publichealthpodcasters.com/book-club and also view information in the show notes of this episode.

29:00 As we wrap up this conversation, we have this saying down south that says, “know who you are and know whose you are”. That means if you want to survive and thrive in this world, you better know where you stand cuz it ain’t gonna be easy. So I want to challenge you. I want you to ask yourself these questions:  Who are you? Who are you in this world? Who are you in this work? How do you want to show up for yourself, for your community? What do you want out of this life in public health, as a researcher, as a professional?

It’s taken me while to figure it all out and be confident in who I am as a Black Researcher, as a Black person, as a Black woman, as a daughter, sister, wife, and human in this world where I’m faced with oppression on every corner. But I know who I’m riding for and what I’m riding for? I’m riding for my community, I’m riding for my people, I’m riding for Mississippi, I’m riding for Black folk like me, I’m riding for joy in all spaces. To live my life as a Black Researcher means I’m living my life as a joyrider.

Outro:

I’m so grateful for this time we got to spend together. If you enjoyed this episode, I need you to subscribe, rate and, leave a review. For more information on transforming public health research into positive community impact, visit www.joyeewashington.com! This is where research meets relationship and I’ll see you next time on the public health joy podcast.

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