Battling Anxiety/The Best of Me

Author at Foreign Native’s June Open Mic at Estate Farms

I am not the same Jordan most people knew. I am a completely new version; new scars, new wounds, new healing to go through. This new Jordan suffers from severe anxiety and depression; it is hard for him to eat and sleep, it’s hard for him to trust people who don’t actively practice being in community with him. honestly paranoia makes it hard to believe anyone or anything — outside of consistent action. I know I am going to show up for the People every day, I just am much more intentional on who I am allowing to enter my vulnerable space. I don’t believe that I am acting weird at all either — I think that I am trying my best to heal and grow while continuing to give my all to all of the responsibilities I have. In short — I am trying my best; sometimes I fuck up but dammit if I ain’t trying.

I have done nothing but try my best to be the teacher I, as a student, always needed. A teacher that empowers students, specifically Afrikan/Black students. I don’t think I am any better than my students — they are just as great as me; we are great because it is who we are. The only way to teach them that is by being myself at all times; to show them that being genuine, authentic and real still is what holds the utmost value to our People. That has led to constant harassment throughout my career; but time and time again I have been reminded just how powerful God is. God and the Ancestors have protected us ahead of time, we just have to walk by faith. I have to go through it; serve as an example. Demonstrate. See I am teaching, in real time all the theory I give out. That’s called praxis. Those in community with me get to witness first hand if all the talk is just rhetoric or if it’s real; and as a student reminded me during this whole ordeal “Mr. Mac you the realest MF teacher.”

See that might be the scariest part of this whole thing. People tell me how much they love me and so many people tried to tell me they were so glad everything worked out; but anxiety made me read every name on that petition over a dozen times. I remember who reached out, who was willing to speak up for me and who wasn’t. I heard the rumors on campus; and the opinions of people about how and what I should and shouldn’t do in relation to a Black student. Now excuse me if I don’t seem to be myself. I was facing allegations of child abuse; I was fighting for my life and y’all were no…