Blackness: A Beautiful Testimony

My mother’s southern drawl was always a sweet touch. I used to say things to rile her up so I could hear it come alive. “Boy, if you don’t stop playin’ with me,” she’d say with a laugh. Those were the days; I’ll always cherish them. My mother was a healthcare worker who worked long hours: sometimes as long as 13. When I’d come home from school I always phoned her, and often the voice at the other end of the line was unrecognizable at first listen. At the time I didn’t understand why she suppressed her natural tone. I used to think it was funny, but today I don’t find it amusing.

After having spent several long years in corporate America myself, I understand the struggle. The unspoken pressure to tame our natural tone, word choice, and inflection became increasingly unbearable as I continued to climb the proverbial career ladder. The work voice, as I call it, is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to how many adjustments we’re expected to make to move forward within non-Black spaces. It’s rarely comfortable, and to be quite honest, is something we shouldn’t have to do.

There’s nothing wrong with being ourselves. I understand the need for professional decorum, but should we as a people continue to allow ourselves to be held to a Eurocentric standard? They’re telling us being Black by default is unsavory and needs to be tweaked. Our name, hair, voices, and demeanor are constantly critiqued, amongst other things that do not define us. Thriving in this world is a delicate tight rope walk between being ourselves and what others believe we should be. We must take the power back by continuing to create our own spaces and lanes so we may authentically be ourselves with no pressure to conform to standards we never agreed to.

Despite all of the progress we’ve made as a people, the anti-Black agenda is still strong in this nation. We understand this deeply as we experience the day-to-day challenges of living in a world that relishes the fruits of our struggle, but does not value our humanity.

I write this piece as a reminder of our great existence. Being Black is an honor although our journey through this earthly plane is filled with obstacles, valleys, and hills to climb. In the midst of it all, we’ve found a way to rise like a phoenix. We must always own our Blackness. There’s grace in our struggle. May we find rest in our strength. After everything we’ve been through, we’re still here growing stronger each day. Our existence is a beautiful testimony.

The Slap: Pearl Clutching At It’s Finest

I’ve been up for a while. I partially blame the thunder. The sound of the rain hitting my window should lure me to sleep, but tonight I’m too distracted. Against my better judgment, I went down the Will Smith rabbit hole.

I’ve had a chance to read a few think pieces on the infamous slap: the slap that has white folks in a tizzy on social media. I told myself I wouldn’t write a think piece, but here I am writing a think piece.

There are so many ideas floating around the web, but there was one that stopped me in my tracks. One brotha wrote he believed “the slap” set Black men back. While I appreciate differing opinions and thoughts, I have to kindly disagree with that sentiment. Here’s why.

Will Smith’s behavior was indeed wrong and he admitted that. The notion that his behavior set us back is a fallacy at best. Black people have always, and will always be held to a higher standard. We could exhibit undeniable brilliance, like Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson, and still be subject to unreasonable scrutiny. This is one of the unfair aspects of the Black experience.

White folks stormed the capital, openly praise the use of deadly force, salivate over guns, refuse to acknowledge the damaging effects of slavery, participate in systematic racism while stating they don’t see color, willfully look the other way when Black men and women are murdered in cold blood, but somehow are deeply wounded by a slap that honestly has nothing to do with them? The proverbial clutching of pearls is disingenuous and is being used as a way to perpetuate anti-Blackness. Society continually hunts for reasons to demonize Black people. This time is no different. In fact, this demonization is deeply American, and will likely continue to be the case.

White fragility has always been the common denominator when critiquing the Black community at large. When you dig beneath the surface you realize this isn’t really about a slap. They don’t give a damn about a slap. The outrage is a convenient excuse for whites to pick apart the Black community under the faux guise of virtue. We’ve seen this before.

Sometimes I feel like people create strawman arguments because they’re bored and intellectually lazy.

But, I Don’t See Color…

As a Black person living in a country that’s hyper-obsessed with political correctness and faux wokeness, you’re bound to confront problematic ideas sooner or later. We seemingly stand in the crosshairs of tone-deafness daily. Everyone has an opinion these days. Race, being one of the more polarizing topics, is a surefire way to ruffle feathers. I intend to do so today. Let it be known, I don’t write these words out of spite, but out of a pure desire to express authentic thought.

I’d like to make myself clear from the onset by stating I do not believe all white people are intentionally racist, I do believe, however, many are ignorant to the real trials and tribulations we face on a daily basis. Even those who call themselves allies, don’t fully grasp the scope of the modern-day Black experience.

White supremacy is an exhausting topic, yet I find myself knee-deep in it quite often. Living in the desert has been an incredible experience, but it doesn’t come without its fair share of uncomfortable moments. More often than not, I’m the only Black man at neighborhood events and gatherings with neighbors. Sadly, awkward conversations are the norm. For example, someone thought it was appropriate to tell me how wonderful Martin Luther King was and how they don’t see color while we were eating. This happened unprovoked.

I take pause when I think of people who find this behavior acceptable. It’s intellectually dishonest at best. I’m sure that lady believed what she said, but in reality, we all see color; I know I do. Here’s the deal: It’s okay to enjoy our presence without inelegantly waving your anti-racist banner. We have to normalize creating boundaries around “the talk.” You have a right to end interactions that do not feel natural. It’s not our job to teach anyone about the Black experience, nor should we have to accept these strange attempts to empathize with our struggle. It comes off as disingenuous and we see that. Our experiences should not be used as a platform for virtue signaling.

All shades of Blackness are equally and uniquely beautiful. Being different is something that should be celebrated and not seen as divisive. It’s okay to admit you see color; we didn’t believe you anyway. Authenticity these days is fleeting, I know. It’s a fact of life as the nation at large continues to believe racism is a thing of the past. You can be our friend, support the fight for equality, and still, embrace what makes us different.

To Be Black in White Suburbia

I often sit under my covered porch in the morning. It’s the perfect place to gather my thoughts. The mountains tower above the community in majestic fashion. With temperatures hovering in the low sixties, the winter months are gorgeous here. Each morning, I’m thankful to wake up to such a place.

When we made the decision to move to Phoenix, Arizona, we knew we’d be severely outnumbered. I don’t mention this as an effort to dismiss the notion that I appreciate diversity, I’m mentioning this to draw attention to reality. I’m of the firm belief that as Black people we should not have to live our lives in a bubble, only entertaining specific towns, and cities that have been deemed appropriate for Black folks. Fuck that. We deserve to live anywhere we want in this country because, at the end of the day, it’s our right to do so. We deserve to live in a gated community amongst other million-dollar homes at the base of the mountains just like our white counterparts. I’ve worked hard for this life. It’s my damn money and it’s where I want to be. They’ll have to deal with it.

While my experience in the desert has been great thus far; I’m acutely aware of the demographics. I’ve met wonderful people who I can confidently say have become friends; both white and Black neighbors respectively. But does that mean everyone will be accepting of their Black neighbors? I’d be remiss to believe everyone is accepting of all people. Racial issues are still egregiously commonplace in our nation.

This discomfort and awareness have stopped many people from enjoying the fruits of their labor. There have been many times, I’ve questioned my own decision to move out west due to my own uncertainty during the build process. I don’t blame anyone for moving out of a community they do not feel safe or welcomed in. It’s a shame things are still this way. This is the plight of being Black in America.

We have to scrutinize every aspect of our lives. It’s in our best interest to be hyper-aware of our surroundings. We can’t afford to be ignorant. Life doesn’t afford us many missteps. Many of us often feel the subconscious pressure to avoid being ourselves within our communities in an effort to make others comfortable. I’m not hiding my Blackness from anyone. To not be accepting of one’s self is mentally and physically exhausting. I’m not changing my expressions. I’m not changing my music. We must choose to never be afraid of being ourselves. There is strength in unapologetic Blackness.

I write this piece today to draw attention to the reality of living in white suburbia as a Black person. While I wish many of the things I mentioned here were not true in the twenty-first century, however, we must always be continuously aware and, accepting of the truth at all times. To be Black in white suburbia is to endure questions about your occupation when they see your beautiful home. To be Black in white suburbia is to question whether your music is too loud on your own property. To be Black in white suburbia is to wonder if you’ll ever be arrested for entering your own home. To be Black in white suburbia is to wonder if the new neighbors will be intolerant and racist.

Toxicity and The Church

“If you sow a seed of five hundred dollars, I’ll speak a word of peace into your life,” a pastor said, some fifteen years ago in front of a packed church in the heart of Washington, D.C. He paused to allow the church to take in his words as he flipped through the pages of his large brown leather-bound Bible. The organist played a few powerful chords on the old Hammond as the congregation eagerly waited for him to continue. “I don’t think you heard me,” he said as he dabbed his forehead with a black satin cloth. I watched his eyes carefully dissect the room as if he were a surgeon. “I’ve come with a word from Heaven this evening.”

I’ve always been leery of folks who speak on behalf of God. I learned to suppress my thoughts. That church wasn’t a place for opinions, after all, if you disagreed with the Pastor, you were disagreeing with God himself. You see that’s how manipulation works. These days God sure does do a lot of talking and what he’s saying is jarring at best. I meant that facetiously, of course. But this is a serious matter.

I watched with awe as folks reached into their pockets, desperate to fill the offering baskets with their hard-earned cash. Some, I’m sure, gave their last. It was clear those sitting amongst me were hurting, and looking for a miracle. This pastor presented hope in exchange for their money. “Your offering is an act of faith,” he preached as the offering baskets began to overflow as the ushers made their way around the sanctuary. As a church musician, I’d been to what felt like thousands of these kinds of services. For years I passively ignored the inner alarm that screamed things weren’t right. I looked the other way out of fear of rocking the boat: how dare I question the man of God.

His words echoed in my mind during the drive home that night. As someone who grew up in the church, I became acutely aware of the deeply manipulative tactics religious leaders used to grift, control, and dominate the minds of the people. I write this essay today hoping to do three things: express my disdain for these toxic practices, encourage people to think for themselves, and most importantly help someone who may be dealing with the effects of abusive, manipulative, and dangerous teaching.

Spiritual leaders have been the backbone of my community for hundreds of years. Our faith in God has brought us a mighty long way; make no mistake about it. We have to learn to see through the Jesus talk, as it is often used by religious pimps to get what they want from you, whether it be sex, money, or blind allegiance. This is a dangerous use of psychology. Trepidation and guilt are their weapons of choice, in addition to the cunning use of scriptures and other biblical text aimed at breaking down your logic. You’re most vulnerable when you’re not thinking for yourself.

A few weeks ago I stumbled across a video of Pastor Mike Todd using biblical text to justify egregious behavior. This inappropriate use of spirituality is running rampant as social media continues to elevate people like him. If you feel something is off when you visit a church or hear someone teaching, do not ignore that feeling. If you hear something preached that causes your inner alarm to blare, explore that feeling.

We must call out the toxicity we see in our churches. Spiritual leaders must be held accountable for their actions. We cannot afford to look the other way when there are whispers of abuse. We cannot blindly trust those who proclaim to come in the name of the Lord. It’s imperative that we open our minds and trust the God-given intuition that was bestowed upon us at birth. I write this today not to proclaim church is not needed, but to challenge you to think freely. Lastly, may we remain watchful, discerning, and above all, true to ourselves.

A Beautiful Beginning

A new year represents a beautiful chance to start over. It’s a beacon of hope that we look to as we turn yet another page in this book of life. It‘s a chance to reset, shed the weight of what didn’t work while simultaneously dreaming of what we could accomplish this time around.

It’s this expectant attitude, hope, and excitement that encourages us to rise to the occasion. I’m encouraged, and I hope you are as well. I believe our future is certainly greater than our past. I’m thankful for opportunity to go at it again.

At the beginning of the year, I like to review the year before. During this time I examine the things that went right for me, and also the areas I could improve. While I wish it were easy to celebrate the wins, I often gloss over those to focus on what I could’ve done better. Perhaps you can relate? I call it the folly of perfection. While we understand perfection doesn’t exist, it doesn’t stop us from attempting to live void of mistakes. I know the struggle well. Learning how to embrace ourselves just as we are while we’re in the process of becoming the best version of ourselves is challenging at best.

What are you most excited about this year? Have you laid out your plan of attack? Do you have tangible goals? I’ve decided to keep it simple this year. I’m focused on spending more time living in the moment, treating my body with love, and sharing the content of my heart with authenticity and passion. There’s no need to run ourselves into the ground. Take it slow this year. Be intentional with your relationships and your time. Be kind to your body and your spirit. Remember to breathe often and always give yourself grace.

May this new year present you with extraordinary opportunities, happiness, and the truest desires of your heart.

One Way Ticket

I feel closer to God here. Nature certainly has a way of bringing the best out of you. The melanin in my skin rejoices each day as the sun baptizes me with its all-encompassing power. The Valley of the Sun is a fitting nickname for Phoenix. With temperatures settling in the low seventies in the middle of winter, I’m certainly not complaining.

As I sit down to write this piece, I find myself mesmerized. The scenery here is astonishing. My writing desk faces a large window at the front of the house with a view that recharges my soul. To my right, there’s a majestic mountain range that towers above my home. I’m at peace; all is right in my world. I can finally take a breath as these past few weeks have been a whirlwind, and for good cause.

Today, I reflect on the process that led us here. I’m overwhelmed with gratitude and filled with joy. It’s difficult to put in words how I feel, but I’ll do my best. Being able to do something you’ve always dreamed of feels surreal even though it was apart of the plan. The moment we set foot in Phoenix almost seven years ago, planted a seed in our collective heart. We always believed this city would have a special place in our lives. In early 2020, we decided we were going to make the move. At that time, there were so many things up in the air, and with Covid raging, things became even more complicated. I refused to let the confusion stop us from doing what we’d planned to do. We decided to build our home in-spite of the challenges; we trusted the process.

By early 2021, with travel restrictions in place, flying to Phoenix every other month to check on the construction of our home was arduous at best. In September of this year, I contracted Covid which added yet another layer of complexity. Following my recovery, we discovered our storage unit, which contained most of our belongings, had suffered extensive water damage. So many of our items were destroyed. We powered through those frustrating moments and at the end of those trying times was the proverbial pot of gold. We watched a bare lot be transformed into our sprawling Spanish-inspired desert dream home. Seeing our ideas come to life is something that I’ll cherish for the rest of my life. It made facing those challenges worth it.

If you’ve been on the fence about relocating, I hope these words encourage you to take the leap. Follow your heart where ever it may lead, even if that means changing zip codes. Even though I felt deeply connected to this part of this country, I dealt with moments of fear and uncertainty. Moving across the country is exhilarating as it is equally terrifying. There were so many unknowns. I definitely questioned myself early in the process. I extended grace to myself, as feeling emotional discomfort was a natural response to such a big transition.

When it was finally time to say goodbye to all we’d known on the east coast, I felt a sense of relief and overwhelming gratitude. Sitting on the plane with a one-way ticket west, was not only surreal, but it represented the completion of a goal we’d set years ago. If you have a dream, I encourage you to go after it with all of your might. Change can be scary, but it’s worth it. I promise you it is. Not being able to easily see the people you love is an adjustment. To be honest, that part is really hard. I’m thankful for the circle of family and friends who’ve supported this journey. Dreams really do come true, I’m living proof of that.

Facing the Unthinkable

Something wasn’t right; I couldn’t put my finger on it. I’d just returned from Phoenix, Arizona after a lengthy stay. Building a home more than two thousand miles away certainly came with its own set of unique logistical challenges. Each time we traveled, we religiously followed the guidelines. My hands were often cracked from repeated hand washing and sanitizing. I masked up and practiced social distancing just as the experts recommended.

Long flights, busy airports, and Uber rides were essential ingredients of busy travel days. That Sunday, I crossed the threshold of my home, left my bags at the door, grabbed a bite to eat, and went to bed. Over the next few days, I couldn’t find the energy to complete the most basic of tasks. I developed body aches and came down with a stubborn fever that didn’t want to go away. To be safe, I took a Covid test, and what I feared the most became a reality.

You want to believe you did all of the right things. I replayed the events of the past few days in my mind wondering where it all went wrong. Now there I was lying in bed, barely able to move, with Covid-19 raging on inside of me. Why me? How did I get covid after successfully evading it for more than a year?

For almost 15 days, I roamed the house alone struggling to catch my breath. I could barely eat, and if I did, it didn’t stay in me long. Thanks to the disease, I developed pneumonia as well. A short walk from one room to another left me winded, and that was by far the most troubling symptom. Losing my taste and smell was a close second.

Being cooped up in the house alone not knowing if I’d take a turn for the worst was a feeling that I never wish to feel again. As someone who enjoys being a homebody, being confined under those circumstances felt like a prison. My thoughts and my fears ran wild. I’d lay in the bed some nights just staring at the wall. Nothing on the television kept my attention. Writing felt like a chore. Insomnia gnawed at me. I didn’t sleep for almost 8 days straight.

There was a shadow that seemed to loom over me. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I questioned my own mortality; I most certainly did. I was convinced I was going to die. People rarely talk about the immense guilt that comes with having Covid. I feared I infected my loved ones. Thankfully everyone I came in contact with before I knew I was sick remained healthy.

Thank God, it didn’t take me out, although it was a beast at the time. I’m glad to be alive. I don’t have any lingering effects. I’m glad to be on the other side of this horrible illness. My heart goes out to those who’ve lost loved ones, and also to those who deal with its lasting effects. Please be safe out there.

Finding the Will

The alarm blared as I lay quietly. I played possum, but I couldn’t fool myself; I was wide awake. The uneasiness I felt in the pit of my stomach had sadly become a common occurrence. Most days I’d force myself out of bed despite how bad I felt. That morning, however, I weighed a ton and could hardly muster the strength to put both feet on the floor. I contemplated taking a mental health day. Taking time off was the best I could do since I didn’t have the guts to walk away for good.

The fear of walking out of the proverbial door and never looking back terrified me. For almost thirty minutes I processed my thoughts as fragments of sunlight began to peek through the blinds leading me to curse the day before it began. For almost ten years I held myself hostage to a job and an IT career I had no passion for. To be truthful, I was on autopilot: I was completely doing myself a disservice. This came at a time where I was struggling to find my way as a writer and business owner. After a series of mistakes and false starts, I began to lose my edge and my patience.

There was a tug-o-war between my deepest desires and a career that only paid the bills. I couldn’t face the fact that deep down inside, I knew I was cheating myself. How do you find the courage to act in the face of fear? How do you follow your dreams when they feel impossible? I was stuck and I knew it. Perhaps you can relate?

Many of us find ourselves at this crossroad at some point in our lives. Since we’ve got only one life, we owe it to ourselves to ignite our passions. We owe it ourselves to dream as if there was no tomorrow. How long must we suffer? I got used to being unhappy with my circumstances. Each day I put myself last and it was destroying me. I had to make a change and fast.

Today, I encourage you to do some soul searching. How do you feel about your position in life? Do you want to change careers? Have you been dreaming of devoting more time to building your business? Have you ever considered relocating to new state and starting over? Have you considered firing that toxic job, but haven’t quite found the strength to take the necessary action? What’s stopping you from making yourself happy?

The day I walked away from that terrible job was the day I realized the power was always within me. I just had to put myself first and act. That same power is within you. The fear of the unknown can be crippling, but on the other side of that fear was a peace like none other. Finding the will to move forward was a challenge, make no mistake about it, but it was worth it. I dare you to believe there’s a future that features you doing what you love and being great at it. Trust yourself and take the leap— it’s worth it.

Beautifully Imperfect

I took my seat amongst a horde of anxious travelers. The cramped Boeing jet was destined to become my office for the next few hours. Domestic first-class flights are often nothing special, but I was thankful for the upgrade. I could feel the tension in my back as I squirmed in my seat searching for the perfect position of comfort. With TSA, delays, and crowds behind me, I planned to get some writing done before boarding was complete, but with all of the commotion, it was difficult to channel my thoughts, let alone write. For some reason, I didn’t feel settled. My neural pathways were dominated by made-up to-do lists and a sea of unfinished tasks.

Distracted, my eyes were drawn to a brother who struggled through the aisle totally oblivious of the people he hit with his oversized duffel bag. Damn, people can be so careless, I thought to myself. A few rows behind me, I could hear a woman arguing with the flight attendant for being told to keep her mask above her nose. Across the aisle, there was a toddler screaming as his embarrassed parents attempted to soothe his nerves. The orchestra of chaos was oddly an accurate reflection of how turbulent life could become at a moments’ notice: there’s always something going on.

Life’s fragility is an ever-present source of anxiety; people do their best to keep it together. Cheap thrills mask how most of us feel. Authenticity, these days, feels fleeting. Today, just one poorly timed mistake can seemingly ruin it all. One bad decision has the potential to haunt us for the rest of our lives. It’s difficult to shake the constant stream of negativity. The virus rages on with no end in sight. The growing irritation and discomfort amongst society is an ever-present thorn. There’s a war between the vaccinated and the unvaccinated that’s heating up by the day. People are struggling and looking for answers. With conflict and tragedy bubbling on every corner, how do we cope? How do we thrive when the cards feel so stacked against us? Where’s the peace?

I closed my eyes and took a sip of water. My untamed thoughts fueled my growing unrest. The flight attendants began making their final pre-departure announcements as the last few passengers took their seats in the back. With the cabin door now closed, the aircraft was set to begin being slowly being pushed from the gate. Time moved in slow motion. After what felt like an eternity we were now soaring above the puffy cumulus clouds leaving the beautiful city of Washington, D.C. behind.

The vibrant evening sky resembled a Van Gogh painting. An assortment of pinkish-orange hues captured my eyes. The glow from my window caused me to squint as I savored the moment. Most people had already begun to settle in and the only sound that could be heard was the low-end rumble of the engines that powered us through the sky. Strangely, it was at this moment, it became abundantly clear to me that we must silence the noise in life if we’re to think and process our thoughts clearly. The stress and chaotic soundbites dissipated once I settled in. Taking a step back to regroup is paramount these days. It’s in these moments we find our stride. I laughed to myself for forgetting such a simple but impactful lesson. It’s hard to focus when the stress starts to get the best of me. Perhaps you can relate. I began to feel the sense of peace that was once missing.

When you feel yourself losing it in the moment, remember to silence the noise. That could mean taking a walk and getting yourself to an environment where you can think without distraction. It could mean going into an empty bathroom stall and standing there for a few minutes to catch your breath. Maybe silencing the noise for you is going for a drive with the radio off to process your feelings and thoughts.

Anxiety, the unwanted companion, finds strength during moments of instability and uncertainty. Please don’t for any moment feel bad for struggling with it. Our human experience is riddled with uncomfortable moments, trials, and circumstances that seek to throw us off balance. Take your time today. You’re worth the effort of finding a moment of zen. Even just for a moment, I believe silence helps us process what we’re facing. While we are imperfect beings feeling our way through life, I must say we’re beautiful. Despite our limitations, challenges, and circumstances, we are beautiful. You’re beautiful. May we continue to move forward through life with our heads held high.