“The most disrespected person in America is the black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the black woman. The most neglected person in America is the black woman. ”
— Malcolm X
Over the last week, just as I celebrated my birthday, I could not help but feel that this pinnacle of life was shrouded in darkness, loneliness, isolation, and, ultimately, the realization that I will not only experience many birth-days in life, if it is God’s will, but that I will also experience a death day.
Since a young girl, I was quiet, conscientious, well-spoken, and an excellent student. After college, I honed the skill of a diligent work ethic, doing all that I could to steward the gifts God has given to me.
After watching a series of YouTube videos about child brides and daughters being sold for cash, I could not help but deeply relate to the feeling of being undervalued as a woman of color.
At times, I feel invisible. Other times, I feel that the work I’ve done to cultivate the characteristics of empathy, love, and compassion for others goes unseen and uncelebrated.
On my birthday, I celebrated the day on a New York City rooftop lounge in a room full of strangers. As the night wound down, I took a seat by myself and looked off at the skyline, asking God where He was. As a child, I was used to being surrounded by my friends and family on my birthday, being celebrated with cake and songs. As a woman, on this birthday, I had not one friend or family member next to me. I felt lonely, uncelebrated, and unappreciated.
It felt that my life was not important. At times, I’ve come to feel like a burden to others. Other times, I feel that my gifts and skills go unseen. I wonder if this drives my ambition to become a physician, as if somehow that achievement will help me to receive the recognition I feel I deserve.
On this new birthday, I’ve come to understand that growing up means taking on a lot of responsibility but receiving no ‘thank you’ in return. As a woman of color and a Black woman navigating the United States of America, I’ve come to understand that my invisibility and suppression makes other people feel more comfortable. My oppression is exactly what keeps the system operating as it does.
I’m tired of being automatically delegated to the ‘bottom’, merely because of my complexion and sex. I am tired of not being seen for what I really have to offer the world because the world doesn’t want to see me.
At times, I dream of leaving the United States and making a life somewhere else, where I am seen and appreciated. If I am honestly assessing my life, I am grateful for every second of it, but I don’t feel that I have the community I need in order to thrive.
Ashley D. Chandrashekhar
Earnest Supplication 
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