My Quiet Place

I am an introvert. A black female introvert.

Really?

I love peace and quiet. I love to read. The pandemic isolation suited me well.

I was an undergraduate and treasurer of my sorority, and I quickly realized that I could collect the cover charges, close the box, and leave the party fifteen minutes after it started. It was a real problem. My sorority sisters expected me to stay and socialize. They asked me why I bothered to join. My answer was always the same: for the sisterhood. And I meant it. I struggled with the idea that maybe I didn’t like people, or maybe I wasn’t likable myself. It was years before I concluded that I am basically okay.

Some 20% of Americans are introverts, and probably little is known about how many introverts are black women. The stereotype is that we are boisterous, attention-seeking party goers who fill our days with constant sex and stealing—of everything from government resources to a hair bonnet at the local grocery store.

But a black girl with a book, who prefers listening to nature versus going to a night club, and who desires to obey God?

What a liar.

It takes a lot of strength to be true to yourself when others try to tell you who they think you are. I am not weak. I am not easily manipulated. Some people accuse me of being aloof. Maybe. At least some of the time. I am in my quiet place, my special place with God, where I try to listen to Him. And the benefit is He is there with me before I even arrive (Psalm 139). I am His creation and I am enough.

One final thought. God is not weak. He cannot be manipulated. He is not aloof. Ever. He knows you, and He loves who you are. He is causing everything to work together for your good (Romans 8:28). Go to Him. Get quiet with Him. You don’t have to be an introvert, but you do have to be still, and know that He is God (Psalm 46:10).