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Micro-Aggression Fatigue

Living back in the Midwest, I am used to a fair amount of micro-aggression. I am an educated Black woman and an outlier to boot. In other words, it is  difficult for people to put me in a neat little box. However, this does not stop them from trying with all their might to do so.

Sometimes, I hear snide remarks about how many places that I have lived and the different industries in which I have worked. Whenever I fail to rise to the bait, they glance at my ringless left hand and start in about how someone my age will more than likely never get married or raise children.

I will admit that in the past catty remarks about my marital status and lack of children could trigger a reaction out of me. But, now, I turn the conversation to them and inquire about their life and families.

More often than not, this provokes a 10 minute diatribe about how stressful their suburban life is and the struggles that they are having within their respective marriages. For a few moments, I see how unhappy they are with their own life circumstances. Perhaps, how my outlier status is proof that their is another way in which to exist in this world.

Still, these weekly occurrences can wear on my soul.



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