Here it is, Tuesday July 7th at 9:15 in the evening. THE POLICE OFFICERS THAT MURDERED BREONNA TAYLOR STILL HAVE NOT BEEN CHARGED AND ARE STILL ON THE LOOSE.
So much, RAGE.
So much fire.
So much tension.
So much hurt.
So much, PASSION.
I’ve noticed a continuous pattern when it comes to Black women and Black trans people. The world goes too silent when Black women and Black trans people are victims of violent acts including death. That silence is loud. It’s another act of violence against Black women and Black trans people. I’m still learning how to be a better community member (within the Black community) to Black women and Black trans people as a Black cis man. I want to be better and I want other Black cis men to be better with me. I believe to be better, as Black cis men, is to commit to the self-work needed to respect and support Black women and Black trans people when it is an inconvenience and not only when it is convenient.
So much, PASSION.
So much fire.
So much tension.
So much hurt.
So much, RAGE.
Rage feels inevitable as a Black person in this country. I’ve been sitting with my rage for the past couple months. It’s so invasive and yet inherently familiar. My rage was activated by a false ally whose preferred form of anti-blackness was through covert antics. A place of residency that once felt safe, became a place I needed to remove myself from. Not because I felt weak, but because I felt limitless strength and knew what I could do with it. Maybe the place was never safe, and it was only convenient. It became unsafe when my presence became an inconvenience. Convenience can have you justifying a façade and compromising your values. It felt suffocating to share that space with the person invoking my rage. To breathe again, I made the decision to leave New York City for Maryland when COVID-19 began to shift the world and then eventually moved into a home. Rage demands change or it will create the change. The change rarely meets the demands, but change will happen.
I think about what Black people have been demanding, for generations, from the policies and power structure of the United States. Kindness, respect, equity, acknowledgement and reparation. I would say peace, but that is not something this country can give us. It’s never had that. For generations, this country has incrementally turned the volume up on our pain—our rage. But, never enough to listen—or truly hear us. It has only cared to watch us—monitor us. To create its’ own narrative of what it is seeing, only to justify its inhumane behavior towards and negative perception of us. However, we’ve been speaking. We’ve been yelling. We’ve been crying. We’ve been dying. We’ve been marching. We’ve been resisting and we will continue to resist.
While sitting with my rage, I dodged using words to construct written sentences. “In times of peace or in times of chaos—an intellect must express” is at the bottom of my website. And I remained silent, sorta. The words I found did not seem to accurately capture the depth of my feelings and thoughts. I was still processing. So, I allowed my thoughts and feelings to simmer slowly until the point of expression felt organic. In the meantime, I read. I listened. I rarely watched because I knew the impact it would have on me. I had to show care towards myself. It’s still #NourishTheFlame2020, nourishment and preservation still matters. I spoke in communal spaces, was challenged in those spaces, and challenged others in those spaces. I did not protest in the streets. I felt guilt and shame at first because of my inactivity in the streets. But, after more conversation and reflection, I realized I was not alone, my absence from the demonstrations did not cause harm, and we all have different roles in this resistance. In the midst of a global pandemic, Black people cannot rest comfortably. We must risk our lives in order to demand justice. IN THE MIDST OF A FUCKING GLOBAL PANDEMIC. Our true and false allies have been with us—and once they were home, they could rest comfortably.
I reflected on the rage I felt and the rage surrounding me. The collective rage is contagious and rightfully so. Black people cannot express rage in the same way as others (read: white people). The consequences are harsher, and the stakes are higher. So, we forgive. And we demand justice. We repress. And we express. We seal the rage within our community. And we create spaces and provide tools for our community to heal. The buildup kills us internally. And the buildup fuels us to create the change through purpose and passion work. In the face of oppression, preservation is a form of resistance. Our preservation, as Black people, is deeply connected to our resilience. Our resiliency endures because of the care and healing spaces that are accessible to us by us. Community preservation supports self-preservation as self-preservation supports community preservation. As #NourishTheFlame2020 continues, I’d like to share three thoughts that have guided my understanding of preservation during this time.
Stay Warm. Nourish that rage. Preserve the passion needed to actualize your purpose or even re-align your life to work towards a more authentic purpose. That fire provides limitless energy to do so. Prioritize being in spaces that foster warmth and nourishes your flame. Disengage from spaces and activities that add toxic chemicals to your flame. Bring warmth to the connections in your communities—especially towards Black people. A genuine gesture of acknowledgement is enough. A head nod. A hand wave, or a raised fist. Regardless of our different identities and origins, our black skin retains the light just the same. That is a bond that we must value dearly as a collective.
Be Well. Recently, probably more than ever, most of my conversations with Black people have ended with the casual “Be safe.” A phrase that comes from an honest place of care and concern for the fellow Black person. It is a subtle yet sharp reminder to me that I am at-risk and not safe. I must intentionally be safe and on guard in this country—solely because of my blackness. Well, I want us to be more than safe—I want us to be well. To me, being safe is about survival while being well is about thriving. Let us encourage one another to be intentionally well to ourselves. It’s a reminder that our wellness matters. Whether that is resting, remaining still, moving, smiling, crying, laughing, exploring, eating, drinking, reflecting, creating, connecting, listening, speaking, or detaching. Do it, well.
Keep Resisting. Resistance does not always require active action—at least when you’re being oppressed. Staying warm and being well can be your contribution but strive to make that your commitment. Whatever it is, honor your commitment and contribution to this resistance. Add it to your routine, your mission, your values, or your purpose. Please don’t let it get rusty in the attic or basement because of convenience.
Stay Black. Stay Proud. Stay You. And remember, our blackness is a form of resistance. No brutal force or passive antics can stop our resistance or joy—regardless of what the digital world shows. It will never stop because it has never stopped—it will evolve, it will change. That is what rage demands. Black rage demands change. We, are the change.
Be well in #NourishTheFlame2020.