Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.
I’m not going to write what I’m sure you’ve already read the past 48 hours. However, if you must absolutely know my thoughts on #AltonSterling & #PhilandoCastile check out my post “Just Another Blog Post About Another Hashtag of Another Black Man That Was Killed by Police” on Chicago Unheard.
I’ve cried multiple times during the past two days. Quick humanity check: If the constant killing of Black men haven’t brought you to tears or make your heart sink, I encourage you to dig deeper. Do not let the world callus your heart. Allow yourself to feel what’s happening in America this very moment. The blood of our brothers and sisters is crying out, and it’s loud. Don’t ignore it.
With that being said, it’s been a rough week. I’ve inundated my husband with random hugs and kisses. I’ve over shared on my personal Facebook page, which I’m sure has ruffled a few feathers, but what else can I do. Seriously, after I pray, cry, and protest- what else can I do? I’ll tell you what- I need a “Black Day”.
Allow me to set the scene:
“Precious Lord Take My Hand” by Mahalia Jackson is playing in the background. All the mamas & daddies, and aunties & uncles are offering up prayers. There are tears. Not the silent, passive aggressive tears. Not the tears that our ancestors had to hide in an effort not to appear weak in front of their white oppressors. We are finally able to weep. There’s a collective soul cry. We finally have a space and time to grieve.
Afterwards, the sounds of a djembe is heard. Children are laughing and playing. A feast of soul food is about to take place. Everyone is adorned is beautiful tribal garments. We are crowned with curly afros and gold. The sun is kissing our skin. God is wiping every tear from our eyes. Healing is occurring.
Kendrick Lamar’s “Alright” is playing. A unified chant breaks out as we hug and jump while yelling out “We-gone-be-al-RIGHT!” and we really believe it.
Then we’ll play spades, and share old Martin jokes, and I’ll ask my cousin to oil my scalp with some coconut oil, because it’s soothing to my scalp AND my soul.
And because ya’ll know me, we would cap the night off by watching “The Color Purple”.
I love ya’ll.
Stay woke. Stay Black. Stay ALIVE.