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Like most Minnesota broadcasters, I look forward to the State Fair. True to its name, the Great Minnesota Get-Together lets us meet our fans face to face.

While I was saying hello to you and your children from the front porch of the WCCO Radio booth, I bet you didn't notice my bodyguard. But trust me, he had his eyes on you.

He is a retired Wisconsin police officer I hire for personal security. He's no Kevin Costner, I'm no Whitney Houston and this is no romantic comedy. When I'm at remote broadcasts or public appearances, I need armed protection to have my back in case one of these bad actors tries to hurt me.

You're probably wondering, "Sheletta, do you really need that kind of protection?"

Sadly, I have good reason to pay him to look after me. I can't count the number of times when anonymous people I've never met or interacted with online, or talked to on the phone, have sent me horrifying messages. One told me they wanted to "bitch slap me back to Africa." Another sent text messages about punching me to put me in my place. I still have a voice mail from someone who declared they'd like to kick me "where the sun don't shine."

Police have come to my house to investigate "credible threats" against my life. After I parked at a meter in downtown Minneapolis one weekend afternoon, across the street from WCCO Radio where I host my Saturday show, someone threw a storm grate through my car window.

I know several other Black women leaders in Minnesota who also hire their own private security.

We shouldn't have to face fear-inducing intimidation while we are minding our own business and doing our Black jobs.

Violence against us is normalized. Studies show that Black women are killed at a higher rate than other groups of women. Black women are disproportionately at risk of sexual violence. And the many Black women who go missing — and are never found — are seldom the subject of a community search. Their disappearances rarely garner news coverage.

So it irked my nerves when World Wrestling Entertainment personality Hulk Hogan, fresh off his gig as a speaker at the Republican National Convention, recently asked a cheering crowd, "Do you want me to body slam Kamala Harris?" then suggested he would perform another wrestling move on the vice president of the United States of America. "You want me to drop the leg on Kamala?" he asked.

The news outlets that covered Hogan's violent rhetoric against the 2024 Democratic presidential nominee did not call him out. In several of the news accounts, his violent rant was termed a joke. (BBC's headline was "Hulk Hogan jokes about body slamming Kamala Harris.")

I'm an Emmy award-winning comedian. My production company is called ShelettaMakesMeLaugh.com, so I know a thing or two about being funny. His comments didn't make me chuckle.

Ruth Richardson isn't laughing, either. A longtime nonprofit leader who was elected to three terms in the Minnesota Legislature and is the current president of Planned Parenthood North Central States, Richardson has had her own share of hatred hurled her way.

"As Black women, we don't break glass ceilings without getting hurt in the process. There are accolades that come with being a trailblazer, but there are also the shards," she said.

"I've experienced threats online and in person. I've been followed and had my name and photo posted on hateful websites by people who encourage others to go after me. People have said I should be stomped on, run over. I've been told, 'I hope every horrible thing that can happen to someone happens to you.'"

My friend Ruth has an undergraduate and master's degree from the University of Minnesota and a law degree from William Mitchell. She is a mother and a grandmother.

Yet this accomplished Black leader was hesitant at first to share stories of the abuse she has endured. She decided to talk frankly to let others know about the pervasive harassment that high-profile Black women routinely suffer.

Richardson pointed out, and rightly so, that our white female counterparts don't get the racialized insults that are meant to taunt and terrorize us.

"These threats land differently with their persistent use of the horrific images of lynching," she said. "I recognize this is coordinated; these attacks are more than what just one person could do. There's the underlying idea that you deserve this treatment because you are a Black public figure."

When we share these stories with our white friends, they are often shocked. Sometimes I get the feeling they think Black women are exaggerating or mistakenly see conspiracies where none exist.

If you're reading this, be an ally. Believe us when we tell you about the racial bullying we're up against. Don't allow anyone, including a wrestling champ, to normalize violence against us or pass off a threat as a joke.

"There's often the thought that we are strong and can withstand all this. It's important for Black women to surround ourselves with supportive networks of people who stand up for us and use their capital to support us," Richardson said. "It's some insulation from the toxicity of the unrelenting hate out there."

I agree with Ruth, but I know that our friends can only protect us so much.

I won't stay home. I won't hide. The threats against me and my family won't slow me down or deter me. I'll keep being a bright light in my community and speaking up for causes I believe in.

I will also keep an armed bodyguard by my side, just in case one of Hulk Hogan's heroes thinks body slamming me would be a funny thing to do.