Black Love

"Black was a hard-earned love." - Imani Perry

My dear friend, Laith, handed me a copy of Black in Blues: How a Color Tells the Story of My People by Imani Perry on Wednesday. I hugged him tight as the gratitude enveloped me with the transfer of such a thoughtful gift.

I started the text yesterday, mesmerized - as always - by the cadence of Dr. Perry’s prose. I reflected on the conclusion of yet another Black History Month. I am grateful for the opportunity to embrace Black people, kiss Black people, and laugh with Black people at a time when legislators are prioritizing banning diversity, equity, and inclusion programs while so many people go hungry, have less than nothing in their bank accounts, lack shelter, and die from preventable causes. It never escapes me that a disproportionate number of those who are suffering - in the United States and across the world - are Black.

Blackness, in its glorious diversity, shapes my identity, my politics, and my vision for a better world. The love I extend to and receive from Black people motivates me in this tough political terrain. As a socialist, I revere the Black radical tradition and pull from it frequently in my organizing. I’ll end the text of this post with a quote from Black in Blues, as it captures the joy, pain, and possibility of this beautiful existence so well.

The truth is this: Black, as such, began ignobly — through conquering eyes. Writing that makes me wince because I hold my Black tightly, proudly even. Honesty requires a great deal of discomfort. But here’s the truth: we didn’t start out Black. Nor did we choose it first. Black was a hard-earned love. But through it all, the blue blues—-the certainty of the brilliant sky, deep water, and melancholy—have never left us. I can attest.

Happy Black History Month to so many Black people I have loved deeply & thoroughly across the decades. Much still awaits.