Black
It is the name I have been given in the place which I was risen. Black. What is black? It is the first thing that you will see when you meet me, which is funny to me because when I look in the mirror, I see a nice Golden Honey Brown. As the great linguist James Baldwin once said, “I realized when I was very young, that whatever it was that he was looking at, it wasn’t me” (James Baldwin). Black is the color that is not a color at all. It is the evil villain in every movie, good versus bad black versus white. “Black is evil. The saved are white.” (James Baldwin). Blacklist, black market, black magic these are the things you would have us see.
So, what is Black?
It is the crown that I wear and the smile I share to know that the blood of so many great BLACK heroes runs through my veins: Ella Baker, Fanny Lou Hamer, Queen Neithikret, Septima Poinsette Clark.
It is not the bondage or chains that the media wants it to be.
But the eternal bond that ties me to a great nation. It is this bond we share that allows us to have an entire conversation in a glance at a distance. Black is the unspoken union among strangers, bound like family. Black is knowing that in this random moment at the grocery store for a brief window of time the divine light in me recognizes the divine light in you.
Black is being raised by a woman who possesses not only beauty and curves but who is also intelligent, resilient, and has unparalleled strength. Strength, the capacity of an object or substance to withstand great force or pressure (Oxford Dictionary). My Mother’s love is a shield from all this hatred I feel. Her relentless pursuit, elegance and grace provides me the ability to smile when I should be holding back tears. While others say she is tough, unloving, or angry, I will forever silently hold the truth and reasons of why she raised me thus. I am eternally grateful for the gifts that she gave me. Black.
Black, is choosing a partner with ultimate wisdom and power who can teach my unborn son to return home alive. Teaching him how to politically navigate your presumptuous questions:
“Hey Man, you got any….. (insert drug here).
Hey, Brother you look familiar, do you live here?
Do you have identification?”
After all;
“Black Privilege is me having memorized my unconceived child’s eulogy” (Crystal Valentine).
If only bullets could kill racism.
What is Black?
Black is beautiful!
It is the golden bouncing curls, and a natural ability to adapt in any situation.
It is the knowledge that the shark that raised me made me phenomenal; independent and lacking lazy. “Cause I’m a woman. Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me” (Maya Angelou).
And to the younger me, the scared me I would say this; “remember to always hold your head high because you are
Black!”
Written By Latesha Townsend
Professional Photo by @kmhforte.jpeg
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