When Your Birthday Is A Reminder Of A Painful Event
January 3, 2021
It's my birthday, and I should be happy, but it's complicated.
I have many things for which I am thankful.
So many good things that if I were to write them all down, I would be writing for hours, if not days.
But my birthday has become something less celebratory over the past few years; it's the anniversary of having my civil rights violated.
THE BACKSTORY - Happy Bday, You're Fired!
A few months ago, I shared in a pretty public way that I was the victim of sexual harassment, discrimination, and retaliatory acts during my time at Building Bridges Across the River, the nonprofit behind THEARC and the 11th Street Bridge Park.
The response to that post was so very positive and supportive. Hundreds of emails, calls, texts, and comments from people I knew as well as strangers and DC area nonprofits. I truly felt enveloped in a community of support, and for that, I am forever grateful.
But even with all that kindness, some scars take longer to heal, and a painful reminder of that trauma is my birthday.
For anyone who didn't read my disclosure, my last day in the office was on January 3, 2018, my 41st birthday. I came to work, expecting a birthday party. Instead, I found myself in a closed-door meeting with Rahsaan Bernard, then BBAR's Executive Director and an HR representative. And that's how BBAR's only executive-level staff member who lived in Ward 8 left the organization.
Yet after three years of continually having my job threatened because I dared to assert my civil rights, I knew the real reason I was leaving. So I did what a lot of people wish they could do - I hired a lawyer.
And in the fall of 2020, following an investigation, the DC Office of Human Rights found probable cause that my separation was, in fact, retaliation. OHR discovered that the decision to terminate me came less than 48 hours after I reported racial discrimination in the workplace and a month after making a #MeToo statement on social media. My tweet outlined sexual harassment I experienced on the job and the "suggestion" by BBAR's leadership that I resign after I reported it.
THE LESSON - Don't Give Up!
I do not regret leaving Building Bridges Across the River because the toxicity was killing me. Modern-day plantations do exist, but instead of holding us captive with chains of iron, it's chains of economics and access. It cost me a lot to stay at BBAR those three years, and besides not wanting to be "pushed out," I knew that if I stayed, at least one Ward 8 resident was at the table (even if unheard), that at least some of the millions of dollars that poured into BBAR's bank accounts made its way to Ward 8 families. It makes me sad to see that those community engagement projects and programs were silenced shortly after my departure. But I'm encouraged by the work of new additions like Martha's Table and the ongoing efforts of long-time Ward 8 nonprofits like my family at ARCH Development.
Like my fellow survivors, life is so much better on the outside. Healing from years of trauma takes a lot of work, but we are doing it. Every day we get a little stronger than the day before, and our smiles become a bit brighter for a bit longer.
THE COST - When Your Birthday Becomes An Anniversary Of Hurt
I do not regret leaving BBAR or filing a complaint with the DC Office of Human Rights. It's taken a lot of time, energy, and money to stand up, but it's worth it if it means that I can keep another woman or BIPOC from being pushed down. It's been nearly three years, but my case is still winding its way through OHR's slow system -- and that's given me a new cause to champion.
But that said, my birthday now comes with a shadow, so I try to avoid it. I chose my birthday after leaving BBAR to move out of my Ward 8 condo and spent the next two birthdays (including this one) recovering from surgeries. Nothing beats being in an arm sling for six weeks as a good excuse not to celebrate your birthday.
THE WISH - There's Always Next Year!
Maybe I will have a happy resolution of me against the BBAR machine.
Maybe my next birthday will be better.
Maybe I'll buy a cake, blow out the candles and make a wish.
-Nikki
P.S. Trauma costs things and over the years I’ve lost a few things but I don’t want to lose this.