This is my take on the high I’m feeling after the blackest weekend in the blackest month.
I’m black all day every day, not just in February. The weekend prior to this one was spent trying to make a dent in helping a city that’s mostly black feel some sense of love after having been poisoned by their (our) government. Although there were faces from multiple backgrounds I couldn’t help but feel like the things going on in Flint are a direct attempt to extinguish the poor and the black by any means possible. This was how we started off our Black History Month, reeling from the emotional ride and 18 hour day of service and still feeling like we couldn’t do enough. Also feeling like, what the hell could anybody have done to deserve this?
In the background of the Flint mission, I was on The Daniel Fast with my church family. We had a prayer call every evening, and even though there were praise reports on the calls, there were still points during the fast in my personal life that I felt like “oh my Lawd” with the hood problems. Keep in mind that my body was in a state of hunger and so that reaction may have been 70% hanger fueled, but nonetheless, I was “Tide..”. Because no matter how many degrees, titles or accolades we receive, we still have cousins and homies that remind us of both, how far we have come, as well as how far we still need to go as a people.
Since I decided to work in corporate, much of my day consists of being black in a way that doesn’t make the people that do business with me uncomfortable…because that’s just the way the game is. I’m almost 6ft tall, and that above kinky head is mine… so sometimes I’m not always successful in the attempt.
So when I got a weekend jam packed with all the out loud blackety blackness that my little heart beating inside of my black body could stand…
Ladies, you know how you feel when you get home and take off your bra?
Guys, you know how you feel when your girl isn’t home so you can fart, scratch and leave the seat up without getting yelled at?
That kind of freedom.
BEYONCE BEING WOKE OUT LOUD– Official Site to watch the Formation Video
Followed by her being Woke, LIVE in front of everybody, backed by what felt like a sea of black women in Afros and Berets in honor of the 50th Anniversary of the Formation of the Black Panther Party…
All of these things, to the backdrop of Super Black Huey… I mean Cam Newton playing for the Panthers, in the 50th Superbowl. I wore my “My Black is Beautiful” t-shirt all Sunday… and as far as I’m concerned, Beyonce won the Superbowl. Shout out to Peyton and all but, well you see it.
I am so excited for the generation of little kids that are old enough to know what they are seeing. Don’t you know that when I was 5 Whoopi Goldberg and Oprah Winfrey were who I saw on TV that looked like me. I’m sure many of us almost peed our pants when the world was introduced to Lisa Leslie because she was tall. Don’t even get me on thick version of Serena Williams during the years of early adulthood and body image shaping, when I was serving in a Navy that told me that my big butt was “Un-sat”.
Many of us had to be comfortable learning how to define our own version of Blackness because usually if we showed up on television, there weren’t 5 of us at once, let alone a football field worth, at the same time, not just doing something with the ball. So while some may have been watching this weekend unfold as just another great marketing move, there’s plenty of us that feel like…
…so just let us have it.
As always, we can talk in the comments section.