As a part of the Black Educator Wellness Cohort, a program Dr. Ellie Cahill and I co-facilitate monthly for educators in the Denver Metro Area, we are reading, My Grandmother's Hands. The author talks about clean and dirty pain in one of the first few chapters. I won't be doing the description justice, but clean pain is suffering that you have decided to transform into something that brings you power that helps you and perhaps others. Dirty pain rots and festers inside of us, causing damage to ourselves and those around us.
I reflect on my journey from dirty to clean pain when thinking about this podcast and my recent episode. While experiencing racism-related stress and what I now know as racial battle fatigue, I couldn't see up from down. All I wanted to do was to stop crying in my car on the way to work, to stop yelling at my husband, and to stop hiding from my friends. I just wanted to be free. It was a long journey from October 2017, when I began to experience mobbing from White parents, educators, and administrators, to May of the following year, when I threw my work i.d. in the trash in front of the school, not having a backup plan or enough savings to get my family and me through even of a month without income. My battle with dirty pain was real. The bitterness and exhaustion had become a thick callous formed over my soul.
Even after leaving teaching, I found it difficult, at first, to drive past the last school where I taught. For those who've experienced pushout, you may know what I'm talking about. I couldn't stand the sight of it. Even words that my former administrators used, like "chat," as in, let's have a chat so that I can cause you more racial battle fatigue, were erased from my vocabulary. In those early days, I felt like I needed the callous made of rage and grief. I wanted it there so that I didn't forget the harm.
Eventually, things began to change. After deciding to seek out an exit interview with the superintendent of that district, I knew that I wanted more Black educators across the country to tell their stories. I wasn't the only one who had experienced abuse. However, to do that, I had to decide to shift my pain. I don't want to lie to you and say that I was suddenly transformed as I walked out of the superintendent's office. That shit took time. I will say that I could see, with clarity, the mission that evolved from my experience. My pain wasn't so dirty anymore, the callous not so hard.
Twenty episodes later, I told our audience some of my exit interview. I admit I rarely go back and listen to guest episodes. I still cringe at my voice, but this time I had to. I felt obligated to hear myself out. Do you know what I heard? Clean pain. I could hear the joy in my voice. I knew my why and felt good about it. The district that I left no longer had a hold on me. Hearing myself in that episode confirmed that I was indeed free. I had found and was living in my purpose. The podcast, the Black Educator Wellness Cohort, my consulting firm, and my doctorate all birthed out of my decision to transform my pain.
For those of you reading this, who experience or have experienced racism-related stress and the subsequent racial battle fatigue that "blows through" our bodies as a result, know that clean pain is real. And if you let it, the pain will heal.
Sincerely,
Dr. Asia
