I say I'm tired because, amid the chaos, I feel strain, exhaustion and fatigue after reading countless headlines and hearing commentators continuously deny that racism exists.
When we talk about Black women in particular, it's the tiredness. Sometimes it's hard to put your finger on it because it's sometimes invalidated as it's hard to explain.
I get angry because it's impossible for me not to say something. But the toll it's taken is so serious now I can barely sound calm, collected and articulate.
The most tiring thing is recounting your stories of racism and people then cracking jokes the next minute and expecting you to be okay.
I'll never forget when Ahmaud Arbery was shot and I sat in my bathroom and cried. I didn't expect to feel anything about the incident but I sat and cried because I knew that could be my partner, cousins, my dad, even. White people never have to feel that.
A bitch is tired.
I'm yet to meet a Black person who isn't acutely aware of their race. It is what it is: exhaustion.
Too often we mould, change and adapt, as that's the only way we can fit in. But we're not here to educate and be responsible for that, especially when Google is free.
That idea that things would be different because people put black squares on social media, companies publishing policies — it's all lip service. That's a reactive response, there's no work being done.