

With all that's going on, many of us have been deep in our feelings---angry, frustrated, exhausted, and, sometimes, totally distraught. The murders of black folks at the hands of law enforcement along with the annoyingly awkward and confusing aftermath of the reopening of states that have been shut down due to the COVID-19 have us all in an utter tailspin.
We're wondering whether a mask is indeed required for entry into our favorite stores and restaurants, whether we should let our bosses know that we're still not OK with returning to crowded cubicles, or whether the insurance company will still give us another month to pay that outstanding bill we couldn't afford after losing our jobs during coronavirus closures. We worry about whether we or someone we know will be the next victim of police brutality or whether this country will ever truly be safe and inclusive.
We all want to do our part to fight against injustice and help those in need, even while overwhelmed and bogged down with the everyday stresses of just being alive. You'd think that with all that's going on, you wouldn't come across the ugly, bitter face of woke-shaming. I mean, come on. Who has time for that? Well, you'd be wrong. Some folks have somehow found the energy to add it to an already long list of annoyingly disgusting aspects of dealing with life right now. And I'm not talking about taking corporations to task for their fiscal and mission responsibilities.
I'm talking about woke-shaming one another---everyday people who are our brothers, sisters, cousins, coworkers and peers.
Let's face it: The whole concept of shaming is far from new. When someone knocks a curvy sis for wearing a two-piece bikini, that's body shaming. When a brother shuns a sis on a date for the number of dudes she let smash, that's slut-shaming. When hardcore entrepreneurs frown upon the motivation of 9-to-5 hustlers, that's job-shaming. When a single mom faces gets cussed out for leaving her child at a babysitter to go on a date, that's mom-shaming.
Don't think you've witnessed---or even participating in---woke-shaming? Well, let's take a look at a few examples:
A black influencer, but you didn't post a black square on your Instagram for Blackout Tuesday. Sis is uninvited to the Woke Brunch. A black professional who chooses to offer support to certain organizations that promote messaging centered on unity and education. Homegirl is considered white-washed and oblivious. She's "cancelled."
A black person expresses different political views than the so-called norm or "majority." Nah, bruh. He gotta go. His black card is declined, denied, and revoked. Maybe someone waited a few days to post anything related to current events. They needed time to research, vet sources, strategize high-impact ways to join the conversation, or practice self-care. Nope. No mercy. They're permanently blacklisted and barred from the cookout.
Oh, and don't dare post on social media or talk about a graduation celebration, a new job, your wedding anniversary, or the birth of a new baby. Oh, hell nah. You can't be happy right now. You can't continue with life right now. You can't possibly be surviving and thriving.
People, have more than a few seats. Please. You're missing the whole point.
Listen, it's one thing to be totally tone-deaf and ignore the fact that police brutality is real and disproportionately affects communities of color. (I mean, that's a known fact backed by studies and statistics.) But it's another to shame someone for how they choose to react to that fact. We all have the right to process information, take a step back, and evaluate our role in what we will do with that information. We also have the right to decide what our place in history will be at times like this.
Dynamic and effective activism always involves the tactful and strategic use of diverse talents, efforts, and strengths. Some of us are great at fundraising, networking, and communicating. Some of us are artists, speakers, and tech geniuses. Some of us are nurturers, hosts, and spiritualists. Some are hell-raisers, warriors, and protectors. It's OK if we aren't all doing the exact same things or taking the exact same approach to reach a common goal.
Take the Civil Rights Movement: Martin Luther King, Jr. was a key figure,but there were many legal, financial, strategic, and political leaders behind the scenes who ensured the success and advancement of that movement. Some pivotal people in that moment were not always on the frontlines of protest; They donated funds for legal fees, food, and other expenses tied to nationwide protests. They held secret meetings and hosted safe houses. They also offered a very invaluable asset: relationship capital. (Yeah, the type of capital where you can make one phone call and meetings are being coordinated to discuss changing policies, launching nationwide initiatives, appointing new leaders, or approving budgets---that relationship capital).
Former President Obama touched on this back in 2018 when he said during a lecture:"Democracy demands that we're able also to get inside the reality of people who are different than us so we can understand their point of view. Maybe we can change their minds, but maybe they'll change ours. And you can't do this if you just out of hand disregard what your opponents have to say from the start."
When we shame others for differences in opinion or approaches to achieving a common goal, not only are we promoting divisiveness where unity would be more effective, but we're alienating essential allies.
Speaking out against irresponsible silence or plain disrespect is one thing, but dissing someone because of their approach to activism is just plain ignorant. Let's all shift focus to the common goal at hand: Fighting for justice for the thousands of people of color killed due to police brutality and making real changes to the systematic strongholds that have facilitated those murders. Let's show what smart, strategic unity can do in the face of hatred, bigotry, and wickedness. Let's endear ourselves to one other, have respectful conversations about perspectives and find ways to work together. The success of this movement depends on it.
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Adrian Marcel On Purpose, Sacrifice, And The 'Signs Of Life'
In this week's episode of xoMAN, host Kiara Walker talked with R&B artist Adrian Marcel, who opened up, full of heart and authenticity, about his personal evolution. He discussed his days transitioning from a young Bay Area singer on the come-up to becoming a grounded husband and father of four.
With honesty and introspection, Marcel reflected on how life, love, and loss have shaped the man he is today.
On ‘Life’s Subtle Signals’
Much of the conversation centered around purpose, sacrifice, and listening to life’s subtle signals. “I think that you really have to pay attention to the signs of life,” Marcel said. “Because as much as we need to make money, we are not necessarily on this Earth for that sole purpose, you know what I mean?” While he acknowledged his ambitions, adding, “that is not me saying at all I’m not trying to ball out,” he emphasized that fulfillment goes deeper.
“We are here to be happy. We are here [to] fulfill a purpose that we are put on here for.”
On Passion vs. Survival
Adrian spoke candidly about the tension between passion and survival, describing how hardship can sometimes point us away from misaligned paths. “If you find it’s constantly hurting you… that’s telling you something. That’s telling you that you’re going outside of your purpose.”
Marcel’s path hasn’t been without detours. A promising athlete in his youth, he recalled, “Early on in my career, I was still doing sports… I was good… I had a scholarship.” An injury changed everything. “My femur broke. Hence why I always say, you know, I’m gonna keep you hip like a femur.” After the injury, he pivoted to explore other careers, including teaching and corporate jobs.
“It just did not get me—even with any success that happened in anything—those times, back then, I was so unhappy. And you know, to a different degree. Like not just like, ‘I really want to be a singer so that’s why I’m unhappy.’ Nah, it was like, it was not fulfilling me in any form or fashion.”
On Connection Between Pursuing Music & Fatherhood
He recalled performing old-school songs at age 12 to impress girls, then his father challenged him: “You can lie to these girls all you want, but you're really just lying to yourself. You ain't growing.” That push led him to the piano—and eventually, to his truth. “Music is my love,” Marcel affirmed. “I wouldn’t be a happy husband if I was here trying to do anything else just to appease her [his wife].”
Want more real talk from xoMAN? Catch the full audio episodes every Tuesday on Spotify and Apple Podcasts, and don’t miss the full video drops every Wednesday on YouTube. Hit follow, subscribe, and stay tapped in.
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You Don’t Have To Choose: How Black Women Can Care For Others Without Self-Sacrifice
One of the primary instructions we receive before a flight takes off is to prioritize putting on your life vest first if there’s an emergency, even before assisting others. It’s funny how this rule rarely translates to the daily routine of women.
As women we are taught, directly and indirectly, to put others first. Whether it’s our romantic partners, kids, parents, friends, or even our jobs. Mental health survivor and founder of Sista Afya Community Care, Camesha Jones-Brandon is challenging that narrative by using her platform to advocate for Black women and their right to self-care.
Camesha created the organization after her struggles with mental health and the lack of community she experienced. The Chicago native explains how she created Sista Afya to be rooted in “culturally grounded care.”
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“So at my organization, Sista Afya Community Care, we focus on providing mental health care through a cultural and gender lens,” she tells xoNecole. “So when we think about the term intersectionality, coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw, we think about the multiple identities that lead to certain experiences and outcomes as it relates to Black women.
“So in the context of culturally grounded care, being aware of the cultural history, the cultural values, and then also the current issues that impact mental health outcomes.”
Words like “strong” and “independent” have long been associated with Black women for some time and many of us have begun to embrace the soft life and are using rest as a form of resistance. However, some of us still struggle with putting ourselves first and overall shedding the tainted image of the “strong, Black woman” that had been forced on us.
Camesha shares that while there’s more and more communities being created around empowerment and shared interests like running, she still questions, “are Black women really comfortable with being vulnerable about sharing their experiences?”
Being vulnerable with ourselves and others play an important role in healing the instinctive nature of always being “on” for everyone. “I'm currently facilitating a group on high functioning depression, and yesterday, we talked about how when Black women may be struggling or have shared their concerns with other people. They may be minimized, or they're told to just be strong, or it's not so bad, or I went through something worse back in Jim Crow era, so you should be thankful,” she explains.
“So I think there's a challenge with Black women being able to be honest, to be vulnerable and to receive the support that they need in the same capacity as how much they give support to other people. So that is probably a very common theme. I think we've made a lot of progress when we talk about the superwoman syndrome, the mammy stereotype, the working hard stereotype, the nurturing stereotype. I think we're beginning to unpack those things, but I still see that we have definitely a long way to go in that area.”
I think there's a challenge with Black women being able to be honest, to be vulnerable and to receive the support that they need in the same capacity as how much they give support to other people.
Roman Samborskyi/ Shutterstock
While we’re unpacking those things, we know that we’re still women at the end of the day. So as we continue to serve in various roles like mothers, daughters, sisters, and caretakers, we have to make caring for ourselves a priority. Camesha reveals four ways we can still care for others without abandoning ourselves.
Trust
First things first, trust. Camesha explains, “Some of the burdens that Black women have can be linked to not feeling like you can trust people to carry the load with you.
“It's hard because people experience trauma or being let down or different experiences, but one of the things that I found personally is the more that I'm able to practice trust, the more I'm able to get my needs met. Then, to also show up as my best to care for other Black women.”
Know Your Limitations
Another thing Camesha highlighted is Black women knowing their limitations. “The other thing that I would like to bring up in terms of a way to care for yourself is to really know your limitations, or know how much you can give and what you need to receive,” she says.
“So often, what I see with Black women is giving, giving, giving, giving, giving to the point that you're not feeling well, and then not receiving what you need in return to be able to feel well and whole individually. So I really think it's important to know your limitations and know your capacity and to identify what it is that you need to be well.”
Don’t Take On A Lot Of Responsibilities
Next on the list is not taking on so many responsibilities, sharing herself as an example. “The other thing is taking on too much responsibility, especially in a time of vulnerability.
“One thing that I personally struggled with was being so passionate about community mental health for Black women, and saying yes to everything and taking on so much responsibility,” she reveals. “That affected me to do well in serving Black women and then also impacting my own well being.”
Practice Self-Care
Lastly, she notes the importance of practicing self-care. “The last thing is really practicing regular self care, regular community care, so that it's embedded into your daily life. So for me, having prepared meals, going to the gym, getting eight hours of sleep, spending time with friends and family, all of those things are part of my self care that keep me at my best,” she explains.
“Then community care, leaning into social networks or social groups, or spending time with other interests or hobbies. That's a part of my community care that keeps me going, so that I can take care of my needs, but also to be able to show up best in care for others.”
Find out more about Camesha and Sista Afya Community Care at communitycare.sistaafya.com.
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