I get to write about all these intersections of my identity in ways that really help me process my illness. But lately, in the wake of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile and everything going on, writing has been hard. I’ve slipped into bouts of debilitating depression, and it’s all triggered by racism.
I’m experiencing a kind of “racism beat” fatigue, where I feel I have nothing more to say about the constant deaths, the constant injustices. I feel conflicted, because as someone who writes about culture I know it’s my job to tackle these issues. But I’m finding that my blackness and my mental health is getting in the way. I’m taking it allin on an incredibly personal level, and beyond the general fatigue is this deep melancholy ― I know my depression is getting worse. Does this make sense?