In this reflection we acknowledge the exhaustion of being an ambassador.
You have explained this so many times. The same question asked slightly differently by someone who could have googled it. The same microaggression requiring the same patient correction. The same assumption needing the same careful unpacking.
And you are tired.
Somewhere along the line, you became the representative. The one who explains your culture, your experience, your history to people who have never bothered to learn it themselves. You did not apply for this role. It was assigned to you by default. The only one in the room, again, expected to educate everyone else.
There is a cost to this labor. Every explanation takes something. Not just time. Energy. Patience. The willingness to meet ignorance with grace instead of the frustration it often deserves.
Some days you have it. Some days the education feels worthwhile. A genuine connection. A real learning moment. Someone who actually listens and shifts.
Other days you do not have it. And you should not have to have it every day. You are not a public service. Your existence is not a teaching opportunity.
Not wanting to explain anymore is not giving up. It is recognizing that the responsibility for learning should not fall entirely on the people who have already been burdened by the ignorance. That if someone genuinely wants to understand, they can do some of the work themselves.
You are allowed to decline the conversation. To redirect. To simply not engage. To protect your energy for the people and spaces that do not require you to justify your own reality.
The people who demand your education while offering nothing in return are not entitled to it. Your patience has limits. You get to decide where those limits are.
Not explaining is not silence. It is preservation. Sometimes the most radical thing you can do is refuse to perform labor you never agreed to.