PERMISSION TO BREATHE
Today was the first time that I felt like I had permission to breathe. Because I am killing it in every area of my life, I hadn’t noticed that I was holding my breath. It became second nature to me. My black elders prepared me for my success, teaching me to work twice as hard as my white counterparts. They demonstrated how to lean on God when it all felt too much to bear.
I am living proof that my elders were right to guide me in this direction. My life is amazing. I have an incredible marriage with my wife of 9 years. We just bought a gorgeous house (with purple and turquoise walls!). I have a fantastic job at JuVee Productions, Viola Davis and Julius Tennon’s production company.
When a pandemic shifted my work from the office to Zoom meetings in my backyard, I spent my lunch breaks swimming in our pool. I was available for prayer on Instagram Live every day at 6pm. Our annual trip with the black side of my family was canceled. But we’re connecting more often than ever via text, Marco Polo and Zoom. Because I’m amazing at self-care, I maintained a consistent meditation practice. I developed the most trusting relationship with my intuition that I’ve ever known.
My intuition reminded me that I moved to LA to become our generation’s Norman Lear. As an 11-year-old, I dreamed of moving to Hollywood to follow in his footsteps. I wanted to write comedic stories that helped us have a conversation about race, politics and the scary things Americans are afraid to talk about. I wanted to use TV characters to demonstrate that these conversations are important and necessary.
To take the next step towards my dream, my intuition pointed me to apply for the NBC, CBS, ABC and WB diversity writing fellowships. I was resistant. I wanted to break into TV writing by my own merit. I didn’t want to be a diversity hire. Most of their deadlines were in May, requiring me to write two scripts in one month. I didn’t have time to apply. But my intuition reminded me that I could trust it. So I requested a week of vacation and got to writing.
Because I am a superstar, I refused to let anything stop me from writing an amazing script. On Saturday, my wife decided to attend a Black Lives Matter rally in West Hollywood. She chose WeHo because she thought the event would be quiet. Every other WeHo rally was small. Surely, this one would be peaceful. I stayed home to write.
It was a HUGE deal for my wife to drive herself to a protest during this pandemic. We’ve been very careful since the orders were announced. We get our groceries delivered, only leaving the house to take drives. When my wife came home to recount how she’d watched a peaceful protest morph into a full-blown riot, I didn’t have time to listen to her story. I had deadlines. While protests in LA grew out of control, I submitted my applications for the WB and CBS programs.
On Sunday, instead of watching the country erupt with violence, I channeled my feelings into my script for the ABC fellowship. The next day, I showed up to my Zoom meetings with a smile on my face, ignoring the chaos unfolding across LA. I didn’t have time to process my feelings. I was too busy being a superstar.
But then, Blackout Tuesday happened. The TV industry announced that I could take the day off. No questions asked. I could spend it however I wanted. I could be unavailable for prayer on Instagram Live, unavailable to confirm our meetings at JuVee and unavailable for the outpouring of calls, texts, emails and messages that were flooding all of my devices. I had permission to turn off my devices and process my feelings.
For the first time in my life, I gave myself permission to breathe. In this one day, I learned how hard I work to ensure that non-black people are comfortable with my blackness. I’m also a half-Jewish lesbian, but I don’t wear those identities on my skin. Those identities don’t announce themselves when I walk into a room. I can choose when to publicly reveal them.
I’ve never been able to hide from my blackness. So I’ve been doing my best to make others comfortable with it. I hadn’t even realized that I was doing it. I rarely cry, especially with other people. But today, I allowed myself to cry and share my truth with several important non-black people in my life.
Today, I am learning how to be comfortable with my black skin. However, I still showed up as a superstar. I wrote the essays for my ABC application and I wrote this blog. But for the first time, I asked for help from my non-black friends. A white friend agreed to help with Spirit Uncensored. My Chinese-American boss agreed to lighten my load this week while I work on my script for ABC.
I’m still processing the lessons from this day, so I don’t know what tomorrow looks like. But I promise, I am not going back into that closet. As always, my plan is to trust my intuition to guide me through it. Stay tuned...
