Why I Devoted an Entire Day to Code Shifting
If you don't understand shifting, you can't really understand who I am and who I thought I had to be.
I used to go bed at night hating myself, thinking I was as fake as everyone said I was. I spent a lot of time rehearsing how to be myself, and I never got it down packed. The older I grew, the more it showed. It's worth noting that I grew up in a diverse-yet-segregated town on Long Island. The kind of town that tells you who you are before you get the chance to figure it out on your own. The Heart of the South Shore has its own accent, food, and world. All I wanted was to fit in. Even though 80% of my body was covered in eczema, my depression was often debilitating, and I didn't have the best hygiene. All I wanted was to fit in.
By the time I was actually admitted into a children's psychiatric ward at 17, I was excited to be treated. I spoke openly about my challenge to be accepted by my peers, to be as close to a white teenage girl as I thought I needed to be to be loved. I thought that the only true path to love was through beauty, through acceptance.
I got medicated and realized that I didn't need to be white to live the life I longed of living, I just needed to be different. So I changed. I found a dermatologist who treated my eczema to the extent that all I was left with were the scars. I lost 100 lbs. All of my friends were white. All of the music I listened to, books that I read, shows that I watched. White. I glued tracks into my hair. I wore hazel contacts and eye lashes. I fucked loads of white guys. So. Fucking. Lost.
I was loved, I was liked, I was beautiful. I was someone else. I knew that at any time, should I have decided to pull out the tracks, pop out the contacts, and scrub the bill collector tone out my voice everything would come to a stop.
Change didn't come overnight. It came with time. Immeasurable amounts of self-reflection. Going from hiding the parts that make me who I am, to accepting them, to embracing it. I had to get rid of old friends and make new ones. I had to do a lot of reading. When did I become my fullest self? Any day now.
I know that not every Black woman and woman of color carries this weight like I did. I know that it isn't all bad, that code switching comes with perks. There are certain spaces where my most authentic self must be modified. Church. Work. White people.
I know that my story isn't every other Black woman's story. I understand that there are many women of color who still managed to walk straight in a crooked room. But, it's important that I admit aloud that I ain't one of them. Code shifting, and her nasty big sister respectability did a number on me. The DM's, emails, and request for more information on code shifting and weathering show me that I'm not the only one. I appreciate everyone who shared their stories, reflected on their own relationship with shifting, and added valuable insight and testimony.
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| All she wanted to be was someone else. |
I used to go bed at night hating myself, thinking I was as fake as everyone said I was. I spent a lot of time rehearsing how to be myself, and I never got it down packed. The older I grew, the more it showed. It's worth noting that I grew up in a diverse-yet-segregated town on Long Island. The kind of town that tells you who you are before you get the chance to figure it out on your own. The Heart of the South Shore has its own accent, food, and world. All I wanted was to fit in. Even though 80% of my body was covered in eczema, my depression was often debilitating, and I didn't have the best hygiene. All I wanted was to fit in.
By the time I was actually admitted into a children's psychiatric ward at 17, I was excited to be treated. I spoke openly about my challenge to be accepted by my peers, to be as close to a white teenage girl as I thought I needed to be to be loved. I thought that the only true path to love was through beauty, through acceptance.
I got medicated and realized that I didn't need to be white to live the life I longed of living, I just needed to be different. So I changed. I found a dermatologist who treated my eczema to the extent that all I was left with were the scars. I lost 100 lbs. All of my friends were white. All of the music I listened to, books that I read, shows that I watched. White. I glued tracks into my hair. I wore hazel contacts and eye lashes. I fucked loads of white guys. So. Fucking. Lost.
I was loved, I was liked, I was beautiful. I was someone else. I knew that at any time, should I have decided to pull out the tracks, pop out the contacts, and scrub the bill collector tone out my voice everything would come to a stop.
Change didn't come overnight. It came with time. Immeasurable amounts of self-reflection. Going from hiding the parts that make me who I am, to accepting them, to embracing it. I had to get rid of old friends and make new ones. I had to do a lot of reading. When did I become my fullest self? Any day now.
I know that not every Black woman and woman of color carries this weight like I did. I know that it isn't all bad, that code switching comes with perks. There are certain spaces where my most authentic self must be modified. Church. Work. White people.
I know that my story isn't every other Black woman's story. I understand that there are many women of color who still managed to walk straight in a crooked room. But, it's important that I admit aloud that I ain't one of them. Code shifting, and her nasty big sister respectability did a number on me. The DM's, emails, and request for more information on code shifting and weathering show me that I'm not the only one. I appreciate everyone who shared their stories, reflected on their own relationship with shifting, and added valuable insight and testimony.
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