I apologize in advance... I’m pissed off.

I’m not actually sorry because it's essential for you to feel and recognize the pain that’s guarded by anger and anguish. For far too long, Black women, especially, have been conditioned to apologize for healthy rage in the face of an unjust, dehumanizing system. The "Angry Black Woman" trope has silenced so many of us, but today I refuse to remain silent.

I’ve spent hours contemplating whether or not I should share these feelings publicly. But in the midst of deep frustration, my thoughts center on how Black people, especially Black women, have been used, silenced, and erased in this country. Despite our fierce efforts to prevent another 2016, too many others failed to unite in the same way. If you're a person of privilege who can support Black women's labor but choose not to, you are witnessing first-hand what it feels like to be Black in America: Free emotional labor for your gain.

The thoughts I've been wrestling with have not let up. It's been more than 48 hours since the election results and I feel the weight of devastation – a feeling I've not had this intensely since 2020, when it became clear to me how many White Americans are unaware of the systemic brutality faced by Black people.

But this time, I’m witnessing something even more painful: “good folk” pleading that a convicted felon – still on trial and known for causing harm, disrespect, and discrimination – is somehow a better candidate than one who actually tried to safeguard the lives of the people. Their justification? An extra dollar in their bank accounts, while countless lives hang in the balance.

The Soul Wound of America: Capitalism Over Humanity

I am not at all surprised that the majority of Americans prioritized capitalism, materialism, and the economy over the lives of the American people. Why? Because this is America’s soul wound. From the very beginning, America was built on the exploitation of marginalized bodies. From the genocide of Indigenous people to the enslavement of Africans and African Americans, this country was founded on profit – profit from death, pain, and exploitation. Women were treated like cattle, their personhood denied, yet still considered superior to Black people.

This wound – the wound of systemic racism and exploitation – is finally being revealed for what it truly is. We’re seeing the painful, harsh truth of who we’ve always been, and who we may never be. For that, I am angry about so many things.

• “But Trump doesn’t mean it” – Do you know him personally?

• “Lesser of two evils” – This was never about choosing between two evils. One candidate was clearly more qualified and didn’t intend to destroy countless lives for political gain. But, evil is subjective.

• “I guess I didn’t do my research” – This is not credible. You did enough research to support him; doing it after the fact doesn’t change the outcome.

• “God will help us all” – Yes, but let’s not spiritually bypass our pain and emotions.

• “We can do another 4 years” – Well, some people won’t survive the next 4 years because of policies like this.

• “We should’ve voted 3rd party” – I honestly don’t have the energy to engage in this right now.

These words and these justifications are a slap in the face. This is what it means to live in an America where profit reigns supreme over human dignity.

The Weight of the Soul Wound: The Fight for Black Lives

When America’s soul wound is exposed, our ancestral trauma is activated. I feel the weight of my ancestors' pain and the hatred of those whose ancestors built this nation on bloodshed and exploitation. It’s exhausting.

In my work as a therapist, I’m forced to navigate this wound daily. I serve as a space for others to heal their pain, while my own heart remains broken. As I sit in my office, I often find myself dissociating – unable to respond to messages or emails. Anxiety and grief flood my body as I prepare to provide therapy to others while feeling hollow inside. The expectation to heal others while my own wounds remain raw is a constant pressure, one that no amount of training or education could prepare me for.

The Soul Wound of the Black Woman: The Heavy Burden

This soul wound is not just a collective experience – it’s a Black woman’s experience. Black women have long been the superheroes in this narrative. We’re the ones who take the burden of leadership, the ones who speak truth to power, the ones who carry the weight of an entire community on our shoulders. Yet, when we need help, we are too often ignored, silenced, and dismissed. We are expected to heal others, even when we have no capacity to heal ourselves.

I feel the weight of the suffering of those who will be further harmed by the policies of this administration. It’s not just the legislation that devastates me – it’s the deep-seated hatred that continues to fester in the hearts of so many. It’s the rejection of the humanity of Black people, the refusal to see us as full, whole people deserving of basic dignity and rights.

What Happens Now?

Once the soul wound is unveiled, we can’t just rush to fix it. We must sit with the discomfort. We must sit with the pain. We must sit with the reality that this wound has existed for centuries, and it won’t heal overnight.

If you are willing to do the work, start by learning. Read the books. Begin to educate yourself on the history and lived experiences of Black people in America. Here are some of the works I recommend:

• Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome by Dr. Joy Degruy

• Decolonizing Therapy by Dr. Jennifer Mullan

• The Pain We Carry by Natalie Gutierrez

• My Grandmother’s Hands by Resmaa Menakem

• Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents by Isabel Wilkerson

• Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? by Dr. Beverly Tatum

• The works of Audre Lorde, James Baldwin, Angela Davis, and the Black Panther Party.

This is just the beginning. There is more to learn, and I encourage you to dig deep into the resources available to us. Recognize the soul wound and understand that it requires real effort to heal it – not just for the Black community, but for all of us.

The Path Forward: Channel Your Rage and Healing

This experience has left me open, vulnerable, and in pain. But it also motivates me to keep pushing forward, to keep fighting, to keep healing. I don’t have all the answers right now, but I am determined to find them.

In closing, I want to remind you that while my journey of healing is ongoing, so is yours. This work is difficult, but it is necessary. If we’re ever going to heal this soul wound, we have to show up for each other. We have to be willing to sit with the pain and discomfort. Only then can we begin to rebuild and heal our nation.