2022.

Haven’t written anything in nearly two years, and it’s mostly because I’ve become more guarded about writing anything publicly about what I feel, preferring only to give what I think—and even to that end, it’s become measured.

Without an effective outlet, this poses an unfortunate side-effect. I’ll explain:

Existential Crisis.

I still make my home in downtown Minneapolis. Here, we’ve seen a dramatic shift in the way of life that one carries on. Before a global pandemic descended upon us, one would step out of their apartment into the skyway, or onto the street, and witness bustle at nearly all hours of day. Shops, restaurants, nightlife—a rather inviting scene, and one that enticed me to move into this district in the first place.

Life’s only constant is change.

As we (and I mean the global we) fumbled early with how to address protecting the populace from a plague, we saw those signs of life evaporate. Two years on, we seem to resemble enclaves; remote work keeps us busier than ever while also not allowing us the social interaction that gives rise to more collaborative effort, social activity and travel are governed by one’s own risk assessment, and the ideals of exceptionalism and dogmatic hypersensitivity pervade the human response to nearly everything.

This fragmentation of interpersonal society revealed an underbelly that, for reasons personal to all of us, we find shocking. Without the careful veneer designed to attract and maintain economic activity in our city centers (Minneapolis is by no means the only place where we’ve seen this), we reckon with what has been desperately swept aside for so long. We witness the unhoused, whom we are unable to ignore in the absence of crowds. We witness remnants of destruction—the cause of which I’ll touch on soon—because repairs imply that activity will resume as normal. We hear and see despair because our festivities, once incessant, remain largely unsustainable in our cautious social climate.

This draws visceral reactions and, as with all emotional responses, reveals something about us.

I am not perfect at this, but I try not to let emotional response get ahead of a logical view, considering macro-level socioeconomics as well as what is clearly happening apart from the macro view. For instance, when observing a riot, I will consider both the grand-scale climate that caused it, and the capital impact of the collateral damage in its wake—an effort at balance.

Existential Dread.

With that in mind, I offer you some—not all—of what I feel. Despite my highly-visible role, the success I’ve had in it, the sense of community, the privilege it affords, and my upbringing, I still know that being a Black man can mean someone ignores all of that and sees an “other” that does not belong. There is considerable dread, ambient though it may be, that my commute to/from work is a hazard—that my existence is threatened at all times and no amount of exceptional behavior or achievement will diminish that threat.

I know that my interactions and responses, as a matter of personal and professional survival, must be measured—even as a logical creature who does this anyway—so as to not cause discomfort in a person I’m interacting with. As a default, there is a significant level of guardedness masked by extroverted behavior; an illusion of acquiescence is created even in an otherwise amenable person. My existence is duality: brave yet fearful, joyful yet frustrated, charismatic yet anxious.

As I walk the downtown streets in the absence of what drew me initially, almost every face I see looks like mine, and I think about the anguish in, time and again, seeing another of these faces robbed of life. I see people who believe there are limits to their futures (and at the same time know why I am not burdened with such thought). I meet children who protest, cry out, and demand to not feel unsafe in their skin. I find myself more driven to fight for their future because I firmly believe everyone must have a chance at happiness, and their future is tied to my own.

To have it demonstrated time and again that a life is expendable because it is draped in darker skin is a harsh reality to live in, particularly when there is a clear refusal (or, worse, a half-hearted attempt) to confront the internalized biases that continue to support this attitude.

This, unfortunately, makes it difficult to shake the feeling that the world is constantly hostile toward you.

Intentional Dissociation.

Sure, what you focus on influences your reality, but this is all connected. I think about how to protect myself mentally and emotionally. Numbness is not the answer. I coach myself more on remaining emotionally detached from individual outcomes in my daily life; approaching with matter-of-fact precision and fueling my joy in ways personal to me. The wrathful emotions I have can be used constructively, in targeted and specific ways. I had a lot of rage as a kid, feeling like a misfit all the time. I still feel like a misfit, but I’ve grown to like it that way. Anger should never be denied, but my personal value structure demands it should also never cause one to lash out indiscriminately. I’ve been reading books about the Stoics, as well as Will Smith’s memoir, and personal elevation is imminent.

Ultimately, I can put my heart and soul into anything I set myself to do, but have engaged the maturity to focus my emotion while refusing to let emotion dominate me. It isn’t perfect, but it is a motion in the right direction. In chasing the goals I have set for myself, this will become more important than ever.