Picture this; an 11 year-old-biracial girl dates a white boy for 9-months in middle school. She sees nothing wrong with it because her mommy is white and her daddy is black and they teach love, acceptance, and appreciation for all cultures. When he abruptly breaks up with her, she does what any middle school child in 1997 would do; she has her BFF call him while she waits anxiously on the other phone. When the words, “I don’t want black children ring in her ears,” her life is forever changed. The blood rushes from her body, and she begins to question everything she has ever known. If you are wondering, that her, is me.
The me today is a biracial mother who runs a successful wellness blog and trains clients from all different ages, races and backgrounds. The me today, get’s to waitlist Barry’s classes and inspire people to be their best and most confident selves. The me today is proud, powerful, and comfortable in her brown skin, but the me today also carries hurt. Deep wounds that re-open with every Black Death being filmed, with news stories of a woman in Central Park using her white privilege and scare tactics in an attempt to ruin a black man’s existence. The wounds re-open when I see the people of color that make up my world hurting, sad, and crying out in pain. What starts as a trickling stream of hurt, turns into a river and that river becomes an ocean; an ocean of hurt that people of color in America have been enduring for hundreds of years.
If you are a person of color in America, you live a different life.
I myself understand that I experience a level of privilege as a biracial woman. My brothers have been called racial slurs and have been stopped and frisked on multiple occasions without probable cause and without any regard for who they really were/are: fathers, successful businessmen, and All-American Athletes.
How? How is the one word on repeat in my mind right now? How is this real life? How are black men and women still losing lives by police brutality? How are we still living in a time where we are constantly judged by our skin color and not by the content of our character? It is all so dark, but within that darkness there is light. What I am witnessing in my feed, in my DM’s and through the constant barrage of texts and calls is that for many Americans, regardless of their skin color, enough is finally enough! What we are seeing play out before us is decades of hurt and anger and cries for change. Although the world feels so broken right now, we are witnessing something many of us have never seen before in our lifetime. Solidarity and support for the black community. Black, white, yellow, or brown, we are all trying to navigate this pain as a community, understand our part and working to find our voices in the process.
So friends, if you want to see the change, you must be the change. Even if you are not fighting this fight on the front lines of protests, I urge you to start to build your bridges. Ask your friends and co-workers of color how to be allies. Inquire, read, show up, and make your black counterparts feel equal, seen, and know that every gesture counts. If you take my class or follow me on social – @taylorwalkerfit, let’s have the tough conversations. I always hope to make my clients feel and experience things they never thought possible. As a trainer and woman of color in the most colorful city in the world, my wish is to help you build the strength to be the change.
Friends, I don’t have all the answers, but I do have HOPE. I recently watched a sermon from Miami Pastor Rich Wilkerson Jr. He spoke of HOPE. He said hope stands for: HOLD ON, PAIN ENDS. So friends, I am holding on, and I am asking you to keep holding on until the pain ends and the wounds heal for all Americans. Keep showing up for the people of color in your life, keep reaching out, look each other in eye, and above all else … choose LOVE.