The Price of Freedom: An Essay

Home. One small word that elicits emotion and meaning. Home is where the heart is. It’s a place of safety for most. Home isn’t something to take for granted. I’m a Black man living in America, shit, I can’t take anything for granted. One false move and I could end up dead. It’s fucked up, but it’s reality. I’m used to being careful. I’m accustomed to the ills of a failing empire that’s clinging to white supremacy and hatred with its putrid hands.

I stood in the doorway, watching the garage door as it came to a thundering close. Moist brisket, pulled pork, and tender ribs, along with all the fixings, made leaving the house worth it. My baby girl’s footsteps against the tile could be heard in the distance as I entered the kitchen with a large brown bag of hot food. “Daddy, daddy,” she called out as she heard my steps. I smiled at the scene that played out before me. The sound of laughter and plates being prepared with love warmed my heart. It’s in those simple moments that you realize how beautiful life can be.

How do you keep your family safe when ICE is roaming our streets looking for trouble under the guise of immigration? How do you navigate a deranged society that sees your existence as an impediment to the creation of their illogical utopian society? Freedom comes with a price. We cannot afford to cower in fear as their grand displays of injustice grow with each passing day. Remaining silent is not an option as they attempt to roll back everything our ancestors fought for.

The American government is at war with its own people. White people think this is new. It’s not. They’ve largely been immune to the side effects of white supremacy. The unwarranted killings of Keith Porter, Renee Nicole Good, and Alex Pretti are eerie reminders of a nation that devours its own with impunity. Even white people aren’t safe from white supremacy. Interestingly enough, Keith Porter has been left out of many conversations about the state of the union. Go figure.

In a post-truth society, challenging the errors of white supremacy is met with anger and disdain. This administration has tried to silence many. I often chuckle when I hear people say, “Voting has consequences.” Although the sentiment is true, we’re in the midst of an ideological war that has been raging on since the Reconstruction Era. To put it bluntly, a large segment of the voter population is not equipped to handle the weight of the responsibility. I think America is full of severely uneducated people who choose to be ignorant because they have relied on the perceived benefits of whiteness.

There’s a heavy price to pay for liberation. We’re not looking for acceptance. We’re not looking for handouts. Black people want to live their lives in peace. We want what is justly ours. We want to experience the joys of life without persecution. We must continue to stand firm in the middle of the fire, unmovable and unshaken. We are the embodiment of resiliency. Our voices matter. Our lives matter too.

Crimes Against Blackness: An Essay

We were three hours away. My anticipation grew with each passing mile. I’d never been before; I didn’t know what to expect. Uneasiness gnawed at me most of the way. It was as if I’d eaten something spoiled. Road trips were supposed to be exciting, but this one was different. As a Black man and student of history, I needed to see it for myself. The wide open midwestern plains made their presence known. Livestock, gentle rolling hills, and blue skies as far as the eye could see were everything I’d imagined Oklahoma to be.

Downtown Tulsa, Oklahoma, finally came into view. The city was a bedrock of rich Black history, triumph, and sorrow. It was a stark reminder of America’s transgressions against Black people; a sin it hadn’t yet atoned for. I remember how I felt when my feet touched the pavement. Walking through Greenwood was both surreal and gut-wrenching. Soulful murals and carefully placed monuments reminded all never to forget the massacre that took place in the spring of 1921. Remnants of that fateful day, hidden in plain sight, stood unbothered as America vehemently refused and continues to refuse to right its wrongs. The destruction of Black Wall Street is still bothersome because their campaign against Blackness continues. Their lust for death and destruction fuels their imperialistic pursuits.

I was reminded of my journey to Tulsa as Christmas night came to a close. The house was quiet. Debris from the day’s festivities lingered. Wrapping paper fragments from an eager toddler stuck to the bottom of my feet as I made my way into my office to unwind shortly before bed. I promised myself I’d avoid the news; it was Christmas after all, but messages about a strike in Nigeria encouraged me to confirm.

The American attack on Nigeria is reprehensible. They went from blowing up boats in the Caribbean to attacking the motherland. Congress must do its job. This country cannot continue to operate like a criminal enterprise. It’s a danger to itself and the world.

It’s important to understand the parallels between events like chattel slavery, Jim Crow segregation, the Tulsa massacre, Rosewood, the Tuskegee experiment, and so many others. The attack on Nigeria, although outside of America, is another example of their hatred toward non-white peoples. They see Africa as fertile ground. The abundance of natural resources is enough motivation to rain down fire from the skies in the name of God. One thing remains true today: they’ll always justify violent acts against Black skin. They’ll use religion as their guiding light. Different day, same playbook.

The Brilliance of Blackness: An Essay

I settled into my seat by the window. People scurried in all directions as the city brimmed with activity. The light rail train passed by, ringing its signature bell. The seasonal aroma of cinnamon lattes, holiday treats, and fresh bread added to the cozy ambience. I must say the cafe was lovely; it was a wonderful place to read and write in the afternoon. “Thank you,” I smiled as the kind server brought me warm jasmine tea and the delicious chocolate chip cookie I’d ordered. Intrigued by the cover of the book on the table, she leaned in to get a closer look. Moments later, she was still standing there.

“Hmm.” I nodded slowly as she spoke with conviction. I understood that a good ear is hard to find these days. Everyone had the right to share their authentic thoughts and feelings without reproach, provided they were genuinely being respectful. Truthfully, I wasn’t obligated to engage. I just wanted to read my book and write in peace. Books about the Black experience always seemed to trigger some people, or in this case, invoke unwanted conversation. Black people truly want to be left alone. White people, we’re not always looking to have deep discussions with you about race, systemic oppression, or whatever else you deem important to us. Quite frankly, it’s rude and tone deaf to make that assumption.

Most of our lives, we’re navigating non-Black spaces that honestly don’t give a damn about our lives, stories, and struggles. This couldn’t be clearer today as the Government wages its invisible war on diversity. Black women have lost their jobs at a record pace this year. Let it be known, Black women are the most educated and qualified group on the planet. This attack on our people is disgusting and cannot be tolerated. It will not stand as our brilliance continually shines above the noise. Although our road has not and never will be easy, we persevere. We’re a resilient people.

They try to criminalize our love of self. Loving your Blackness is not an indictment against others. Enforcing our boundaries is not an act of war. We live in a world that prioritizes lies over the truth. We’ll navigate a post-truth society by embracing knowledge, history, and genuine love of our people. It’s how we invigorate the next generation of Black leaders. Our skin is not a crime. Our thoughts are not worthless.

We must teach our children to be thinkers. We must teach them to create. We must teach them to relish knowledge and truth. They must love themselves. For Black people, this is of the utmost importance. Our excellence is often rooted in our innate ability to create. Our brilliance shouldn’t be suppressed even in a society that usually attempts to reject and erase our contributions. We shouldn’t dim our light out of fear that we won’t be accepted. Acceptance isn’t the goal. We don’t owe anyone an explanation for existing as our truest selves. Often imitated, never duplicated, our art, music, literature, innovation, and scholarship matter.

A long Walk: An Essay

The rustling trees made their presence known as I carefully ducked to avoid their fragile limbs. Void of leaves, they stood tall against the mountainous backdrop as a beacon of strength in nature. This walking path is amongst my favorites; I often gather my thoughts here. My daughter’s laughter fuels me as I pull her along in her wagon. She points at a curious jackrabbit that hops by. The simple things catch her attention. Our time together is invaluable. She’s still discovering the world around her. The innocence in her eyes recharges my soul. One day she’ll understand the challenges of being a Black woman in America, but that day is not today.

White supremacy is a fool’s game. Black people just want to be left alone. I could argue we’re still living through the Reconstruction Era. History notes, reconstruction ended in 1877, but if we’re honest, the stains of chattel slavery and the Civil War are still ever present. We picked their cotton and filled their coffers. The blood, sweat, and tears of our ancestors can be felt blowing in the air around us, reminding us that our work is not yet finished. Things are still awfully awry despite the significant advancements of our people.

America has never adequately dealt with its original sin. They, white supremacists, often blame Black people for their inability to compete in a nation that has been rigged for them since the beginning. They hate diversity because it exposes them for who they really are: weak, entitled, and glaringly incompetent. Instead of atoning for their original sin, they’ve doubled down. If it weren’t so, they would not try as hard as they have to keep the playing field uneven.

The current administration has leaned into dangerous ideologies that fuel the decay of society. Harmful rhetoric continues to damage what some used to consider America’s strength in the modern age. When did diversity become an unbearable stench? A white only America is their fever dream. It’s an unusual fantasy that will never happen. Despite the opposition, we continue to rise. Despite their open attacks, we continue to march forward, paving a way for our children to thrive in spite of the immense pressure. We will never give up. Our children are depending on us. We ain’t going nowhere. This is our country too. The nation was built by our people. We will continue the fight for equality, access, and the ability to live our lives in peace.

Renaissance of Black Love: An Essay

The moon and its effervescent cast of twinkling stars were a worthy companion as I burned the midnight oil. A shea butter-scented candle burned softly in the background. Its luminous flame danced and flickered amongst the darkness as I examined my thoughts. Mmm, the scent it produced was refined, yet alluring. The mood had been set to convey what needed to be said. Black Woman, may I? I know you’ve heard it all before; empty words have only added credence to the pain and betrayal. I understand, believe me, I do.

Systemic trauma wounded our love. The oppressor still seeks to contaminate and destroy our families. Despite our history, we’ve forged ahead through the mire. Our resilience validates the strength passed down to us by our ancestors. Today, now more than ever, we need each other. Our souls will never know peace until we’re restored.

You’re tired, I can see it in your eyes. You’ve cried in the darkness. You’ve yearned for our love, support, and protection. Your grace is as the day is long. How have we repaid you? With scraps? With broken promises? We’ve betrayed you with our incautious deeds and lack of consideration. We’ve harmed you with our words. You’ve never deserved this. We fuss, fight, and drift further apart. Like a ship without a sail in search of dry land, we’re lost without you. The promised land will remain hidden if we continue to forsake you. There are no streets of gold without you by our side. To sin against thee is to sin against ourselves. The war between us must end. On the battlefield of love, there are only casualties.

Queen, you deserve nothing short of our best. It’s our duty to protect you with our lives. We must honor you with every ounce of our being. We must lift you and support your dreams just as you’ve supported ours. Those who wish to abuse you and profit from your pain must be canceled and dealt with appropriately.

The next generation of men must learn from our mistakes. A renaissance of Black love is needed. Black love is life. Black love is healing. Black love is everything.

Black First: An Essay

The magic and brilliance of Blackness are often overlooked and cast to the side. It will never be seen as the crime against humanity that it is. It’s unfortunate yet expected. I often wonder what it was like to live during the civil rights era— the era of Dr. King, Malcom X, Medgar Evers, Assata Shakur, Fred Hampton, and others who believed in the liberation of Black people. I would be remiss if I did not say that this is our time in history to make a stand. Political violence has always been an inescapable aspect of the Black experience. It’s been there since the beginning. While I don’t condone violence of any kind, it’s often been brought to the doorstep of Black people throughout American history. It is neither wise nor honorable to be ignorant of the past. Historical context is paramount. White supremacist ideas have always and continue to be a danger to Black society. There is nothing new under the sun in America. The sanitization of White supremacy and its relics is an open assault on the livelihood and well-being of my people.

Recent events in America have highlighted an ever-growing divide. The war of words and ideas has spilled into the streets. The talk of race wars and reckless instigation from the current Administration has only elevated the temperature. They’ve made a martyr out of someone who furthered this divide. Indifference does not mean endorsement, just as death does not erase the ills in one’s life. It would appear that blind allegiance to the misinterpretations of American Christianity has led many to show grace to a white supremacist and his cause. These same people have looked the other way when confronted with anti-Black hate crimes and the atrocities in Gaza. This is the same religion that those who propagate hate used and continue to use to justify chattel slavery, intolerance, and genocide, including the assault on democracy today. I’m careful not to indict the faith as a whole, although I personally feel it has created more conflict between us than it has ever solved.

Threats were illogically levied against HBCUs when the perpetrator didn’t align with their agenda. Those in power, under the veil of faux spirituality, would rather push for statues, unhinged forced mourning, and a national day of remembrance for someone who believed I was better off enslaved instead of bringing the country together. I will not utter his name in this composition. They chose to memorialize a bigot in the name of the Lord, who made it clear he believed Black people should be at the bottom of the social and economic order. His crass words regarding the intelligence of Black women are unforgivable as they are simply untrue. His words resonated with many across this nation, many of whom believe they are Christians. Where are their morals? Where is this love of Jesus they mindlessly espouse, yet do not extend? This is America. This has always been America for Black people.

Despite all we’ve faced and continue to face in this country, we still rise to the occasion every day. The love of self and each other is needed now more than ever. For the sake of our children and those who will come after us, we must continue to move forward, intentionally confronting the issues that plague our society. Being Black first doesn’t mean other lives aren’t valuable as well. With each careful step, we’re creating history. The generations after us will judge us for the actions we take today. Choosing to make a difference in the face of mounting opposition is what makes us special. We’re resilient, strong, and proud. The fight for justice and equality continues.

Not Easily Broken: An Essay

My eyes began to adjust to the darkness as I closed my laptop. I’d struggled to string together a few meaningful sentences. Damn, I’d been sucked into the abyss again. The block reared its ugly head, seeking to devour my creativity. For days, I’d barely touched my manuscript. I’d write a few words and close the computer, wondering where my energy had gone. The darkness reminded me of time wasted despite my sincere attempts to be productive.

I dragged myself to bed as the guilt taunted and prodded me. I wondered if I’d ever finish the story that has taken residence on my hard drive. “It shouldn’t be this difficult,” I mumbled under my breath. It shouldn’t be, but it is: this is the writer’s paradox. The struggling writers trope felt more like prophecy.

How can you write an impactful story when you’re reminded daily of an evil system that’s hell bent on disrupting the lives of your people? It’s difficult to plead ignorance and look the other way when things like the Voting Rights Act of 1965 are in the crosshairs of the Supreme Court. Those in power seek to make us more vulnerable.

Women’s rights are being violated by the day. Distressing thoughts of my daughter’s future in a world run by white men armed with ill intentions, deep hatred, and entitlement have taken up space in the back of my mind. They curate harmful legislation in the name of God. Misguided by their insatiable egos, their appetite for human suffering is sacrilegious. What kind of God relishes in the misfortune of the underserved? Their empty souls use religion to justify their ambitions. It’s theatre at best.

These are my musings. As a man who is deeply connected to his soul, I find solace in honesty and deep introspection. Each day is a new opportunity to push forward. We can’t always control what happens around us, but we can certainly choose how we’ll respond.

Soul Talks: An Essay

Rocks crumbled beneath my feet with each careful step I took along the edge of the desert trail. Evening walks at the base of mountains never get old. I’m one with my soul in these moments, I can hear my innermost thoughts more clearly as birds of prey fly in unique patterns above. In the distance, I was drawn to a young coyote playing near a tall cactus that leaned ever so slightly to the right. Perfection doesn’t exist in nature, yet its natural, undisturbed beauty is self-evident. The sun began slowly descending behind the peak. While taking in the picturesque view of the sun-scorched landscape, I felt a calmness descend over me. This place is special. Nature is one of life’s illustrious teachers. The birds and other animals rarely appeared stressed and bogged down with the cares of this life. I know we’re complex creatures with commitments and complicated social dynamics, but I can appreciate the simplicity of their lives.

Over the past few months, I’d been feeling heavy. People I love have been personally affected by the unconstitutional DOGE cuts. Consistent and ever-present chaos affected my mood as this regime has disproportionately attacked my people. While Black people have never been a priority in America, what we’re seeing today is openly disgusting. I’ve always been a champion of protecting peace, yet I realized I hadn’t taken my own advice.

Prioritizing our mental health is a personal decision, one that is made each day. It must be an intentional decision. We should be aware of what’s happening around the nation and the world at large, but it shouldn’t be at the expense of our health. The effects of not protecting my peace manifested in interesting ways. Writing had become difficult. I’m in the process of writing my 4th novel, which comes with its own set of challenges. The pages of my story were collecting dust for a while: Slowing down and silencing the noise in life is an act of self-love. We must give ourselves a chance to be present without strings attached. Productivity can wait. Our spirit needs to be recharged often.

Rest is something I’ve been doing more of. Living in the moment has taught me the importance of giving myself grace. I don’t engage with things and people that do not bring me peace. This personal decision has reaped bountiful benefits in my life. I encourage you to do more of what makes your soul happy. Stay aware, but don’t let it consume you. Prioritize rest and silence when you can. Put energy into what brings you the most joy. Life, even with its complexities and challenges, is beautiful with the correct perspective. Perspective is truly everything. Always remember to make yourself a priority. May the next half of this year be the best yet.

Power to the People: An Essay

King cotton made many rich as they violently exploited and used our bodies to fuel the American economy. We built this nation. They’d rather burn books and indulge in revisionist history than make atonement. History speaks for itself and it tells a damning story. America’s cold shoulder and unwillingness to right its wrongs is not only disgustingly arrogant and cowardly, but sinful by their own accord. They conveniently use the bible and faux Christian values to commit psychological warfare and crimes against humanity. It’s one of the oldest tricks in the book.

Cowardly attacks on our institutions and establishments have ramped up as white supremacy seeks to devour everything and everyone it deems unworthy. Diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives have dried up across the nation. The Trump administration is pushing this merit narrative. There is no real merit system in this country. Our kakistocratic government is all the proof you need. Many in leadership haven’t earned a damn thing. The Signal group chat fiasco is a prime example of how gross incompetence in critical roles can have material consequences.

Is America great? If you ask white America at large, many will tout its greatness. I’ve encountered a few people who see nothing wrong with what’s happening in the country. The constitutional crisis many legal scholars have hinted at is here as the Trump administration defies the courts. I don’t know if it’s delusion or willful ignorance, either way it’s fucked up. There is certainly an undeniable crisis of character here in the United States. Many Americans are unhinged, uncultivated, vile, racist, and grossly entitled. When Trump, a felon, racist insurrectionist, was elected again, it told me everything I already knew. America doesn’t give a damn about real progression. Our allies have distanced themselves from us. Unnecessary trade wars and threats of imperialistic campaigns are just the tip of the iceberg. Black people have always been hip to the charade. America pretends to be a pillar of justice and strength while eating its own. Many are now in the find out stage.

My father texted me a few months ago to express his thoughts on the election. As a hopeless optimist, he passionately lectured me about the resolve of the American people despite the daunting terrain ahead. In his eyes, all things could be overcome, including another disastrous four years of Trump. While I can certainly appreciate where he was coming from, perhaps pessimism has clouded the lens through which I view the world. I’m still angry about November.

Those who hate Black people and other minority groups are unwilling to see the proverbial red dot on their heads through the political theatrics and smoke screens. The effects of bad politics have downstream consequences. In an oligarchy, everyone outside of the elite is targeted. Voting has consequences, and many are learning this the hard way as civil rights are beginning to be openly attacked and rolled back.

In closing, many of us understand the gravity of the times. Silence is not an option. We must protect our interests, institutions, and rights with our voices. Each one of us has the power to effect change, even if it doesn’t feel that way right now. Learn how laws and bills are passed. Knowledge is power. I know we’ve been fighting all our lives, and it’s exhausting. We can’t give up or give in because that’s what they want. Your peace of mind and health are of the utmost importance. Keep your head up, remain watchful, get involved peacefully, and vote.

We Shall Not Be Moved: An Essay

January felt like the longest month of my life. Although that’s hyperbole, it’s legitimately how I feel. The events of the last two weeks have been unprecedented. The open attack on democracy couldn’t be clearer. Our elected officials appear to stand by idly as the President manically dismantles, disrupts, and destroys the legislative, judicial, and executive branches of Government. With the recent unlawful firings of inspector generals, ladies and gentlemen his uncultivated revenge tour has officially commenced. We’re in dangerous territory make no mistake about it. In addition to his negligent incompetence, he’s used a tragedy to disparage diversity by blaming DEI for the tragic accident involving a United States Army Blackhawk and an American Eagle CRJ operating as flight 5342. The cabinet of the unqualified have made their unsystematic desire to conquer and divide known.

Black people, we know what it means to be resilient. We didn’t make it this far without our community, faith, and an unrelenting desire to rise above the ails of white supremacy. This monster is not unfamiliar to us. This sickness wishes to erode our psyche and pound us into submission, but as our ancestors once said, we shall not be moved. As the nation continues to openly ignore our achievements and the impact we’ve made on this nation, we must never forget ourselves. This coordinated attack only emphasizes our greatness. Let them attempt to cancel Black History Month, but let it be known, that every day is a celebration of Black excellence.

But how do we cope and maintain our mental health as the nation appears to be falling apart at the seams? How do we continue to relish in our strength when the weight of the world sits atop our shoulders? How do we continue to live amongst those who’ve made it abundantly clear we’re not worth a damn? These are the questions I’ve often asked myself.

We move forward in strength by choosing not to give in to their ignorance. Now more than ever we must protect our peace. This has been my theme for 2025. I know these burdens feel daunting. Some days we’re exhausted beyond measure but we must keep our heads up. Rest is of the utmost importance. Disconnecting from the negativity is a must. Choosing not to engage with rage baiters and the uneducated online is paramount. Above all revel in the love of self like a tree planted in fertile soil. Our soul needs love— our souls need each other. We are a beautiful people. May we never forget who we are.