On Being "Young" Gifted & Black in America Today

In my opinion, one of the key things we over-emphasize as a society, is how our health challenges, and changes evolve as you age. For majority of my life, I was convinced that 30 was the end all, be all to adulthood. I was so sure that by 30, my life and goals would be cemented and that I would have sufficient “breathing room” for tackling any disruptions, alternative plans, or mishaps that came along with acquiring new wisdom and new clarity in my decision making process. 

Instead, I woke up on my 30th birthday in a country on the brink of fascism. When I sought medical attention, the professionals seemed more concerned with the fact that I hadn’t become a parent, than the reality that I had just become a brand new junior academic while working full time, and going to graduate school with the goal of doing research in advanced computer science topics. 

Trying to explain the way my brain rationalized my decisions suddenly became unwelcome everywhere I turned. I felt shut out, unseen, and unheard by even the people closest to me including my family and friends. My previous coping mechanisms had long been acknowledged as more unhealthy than soothing, but this time, my pride had to be laid aside. 

I was now a functionally disabled adult woman, and in the face of this new world, I had to carry on. Like so many women have in history, I had to carry on. Like the women that raised me into a fully capable, thoughtful, and kind human being, I had to push on. Like my ancestors, I had to find innovative ways to survive in our “homeland”. 

I turned inward at first. Explaining all of the ways that my thoughts could diverge, while also rationalizing how they re-converged proved more exhausting than not most days. Doing this in front of people, like at a new job, or in front of new peers, or worse, in front of a crowd was grueling. I thought that if I paid more attention to my diet, my fitness, and my medication regimen, I would survive well enough. 

Doing all of that wasn’t enough.  

I found myself “fraying at the edges”a lot faster, and more overwhelmed than I was willing to openly admit. My body began responding to the stress with new urgent aches and pains that woke me from sleep. I became more emotional, moodier, and still could not find a singular issue in my “life” that was causing all of this. 

So, I began to reflect on my family history. Stress has hurt my family more disproportionately than we would be wiling to discuss. I understood that I was now at the age which the indicators of extreme and prolonged stress would begin to have a physical toll that could become permanent. 

I thought of my mother, a single and hardworking parent by my age. She was also the first in my family to earn a college degree. My thoughts shifted to my grandmother, who’d become a mother five times over by my age. I realized how quick her mind had to become to keep a household fed, clothed, and on a tight schedule to accommodate work and school. Beyond them both, I thought of my fourth great grandmother, finally emancipated from slavery after being born into the brutalization 17 years previous, and her horror at realizing that she may never be able to leave the place she knew as home. 

This month, February, brings a lot of our struggles, to the forefront. We’re all barely two months into the new year, and so many things have changed, seemingly unnoticed before our eyes. The news is more dire, the stories being told are more human, and we have had to ask ourselves some serious personal, moral questions about who we are and what “we” believe in. 

I realized that I couldn’t do much by just staying in my head all the time, and constantly mulling over the state of the world. 

I had to move. I had to regain my strength. I have to take care of myself physically and mentally if I want to be a part of a better tomorrow. Still, on the way to that “tomorrow”, I could never forget the communities, and homes, and people that helped me to arrive at this point. These communities, still need people like me. People with good, and truthful memories, who want to make a better way for everyone. 

What a tall order to fill, right?

But, I will not back down from the fight. I have to do things with more intention, and more clarity than ever before. I have to make better decisions, not just for me, but for my community, and for the people that I know and love. Being this radically honest with myself has been no easy feat, but I’m dedicated to continuing along this path. My ancestors survived, so that I may be here. My mother achieved her education so that my options would be different from hers. Now, it’s my time to step up. 

This month, I have created an open source repo with the intention of helping other developers build their coding, and pair programming skills, using a few Black History Month facts I have assembled. This is a single page react, vite, html, and scss repository, which can be refactored for Angular, Vue, Google Gemini, ChatGPT, or which ever coding stack the developer would like to use.

I had hoped to help produce an in person hack night for some of us local to Atlanta to meet, build, and engage with each other’s work over some food and maybe even prizes for those willing to share their concepts with the group. Time is of the essence, so there will probably not be an in person event. However, I want to help keep the good work going and active. Email me personally at info@kolorkodedstudios.com if you have questions, concerns, or just want to nerd out over this project and how we can expand it for other developers locally and globally. 

Repo Link: https://github.com/AllisonMH/bhm-hacknight-starter 

Project Live Site: https://bhm-hacknight-starter.vercel.app/

Happy Black History Month, and Happy Hacking the Future for us ALL 🥹✊🏾💻💜✨