Abstract
There are few things that I don't know, feel, do, want or get to do as a Black woman public health professional. First, unlike the public health datasets that separate race from gender, I don't know life in any other way than as a Black woman. Second, when other educators and public health professionals get to decide when to think about race and racism in their classrooms or research, I don't know life without being reminded of my Blackness. I am treated accordingly and explains why I grew up believing that I needed to hide and shrink myself to get dubbed as professional. Third, anti-Black calls to codeswitch have had me feeling some kind of way about my hoops, braids, and nail art in predominately white spaces. I have since decided to carve out spaces for youth to show up unapologetically themselves and take up space. These experiences allow me to design youth programs and contribute to the literature in ways that affirm their identities and amplify their voice. And, despite being exhausted by the ongoing expectations to teach everyone about racism while being targeted by racism, there is one thing I do get to do . . . love being a Black woman in public health. To view the original version of this poem, see the supplemental material section of this article online.
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