"You look tired."
"Tired? Girl, tired?! I've literally been chilling for two weeks. I've slept, I've leisured; I've self-cared, and the only words that come to your mind when you see my Black Girl Magic countenance are, You look tired?"
Wow.
"You look tired."
She said I look tired and all of a sudden, I felt tired. I felt all of my tired of the world. I felt the tired of the daily weight I bear in this world. I felt the tired of the pain I've been too strong a Black woman to acknowledge. I felt the tired of my 35-year-old face that has weathered trials, pain, a sleep disorder, a weird test from the doctor, all 365-terror-filled days of 2020, being Black in America, Donald Trump's presidency, Breonna Taylor's story, protests, marches, Covid stats, the constant screech of ambulances through Brooklyn streets, remote learning, Zoom parties, weddings, funerals. Being a Millenial. I felt the Tired she named was written on my face.
And while I initially wanted to smack all the words from ever forming on her lips again, I thanked her for them instead. I thanked her because her backhanded comment served as a greater reminder that, actually, I am tired. And no amount of sleeping, leisuring and spa-day self-caring can cure the tired I feel. The greatness of my tired needs a greater place of rest.
Her backhanded comment pointed me back to Jesus who bids me come to Him with all my Tired, give it to Him and just rest. Her "minding-my-business-instead-of-her-own" backhanded comment sent me to Matthew 11:28-30 to read, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” So while she probably should refrain from remarking on the appearance of others, she pointed me to Jesus.
So, yes, I'm tired. But I thank God for a safe place to rest.
Lourdes Anita