A Fight for Blackness

The grotesque attack on Blackness couldn’t be clearer. The anti-Black agenda will not rest until it devours every ounce of consciousness. These coordinated attacks via our legislative system are just the tip of the iceberg. Here we are yet again at another pivotal moment in history as Florida Governor, Ron DeSantis seeks to water down and erase our history. I’d like to enlighten Mr. DeSantis; there is no American history without Black history. Our struggle, impact, and contributions are deeply American despite their unwillingness to acknowledge the truth.

Politicians continue to prove their handlers and political aspirations are of the utmost importance. I believe DeSantis has his sights set on the White House. Trump set the stage perfectly for these reprobate clones, and as a result, we are likely to see more bills and policies openly aimed at the destruction of Black families.

As I write this essay, I struggle to understand why they’re afraid of diversity. Why do they continue to play these harmful games with our lives? How will long will they incubate hatred? I can only imagine how tiring that can be. Until America addresses its sin against Black people, there will never be peace. While it’s disheartening to watch what’s happening in Florida, I’m encouraged by our response. All over the nation, people have spoken out against these sinister policies.

The education of young Black people must begin in our homes. We are the custodians of our history. We must support Black educators who find themselves in the trenches as the battle for our children rages on. We must support Black authors and thought leaders who uplift and encourage the love of our Blackness. We are at war, make no mistake about it.

More Life

The peaks above my home were hidden in a sea of puffy clouds and mist. Just beyond my courtyard, I watched a single bead of leftover rainwater trickle down the side of my favorite saguaro. Puddles of water found rest near my entryway. The birds frolicked through the air without a care. An unusually cool breeze nipped at my skin. The sound of laughter could be heard on the other side of the wash. A familiar hot air balloon drifted by in the sky adorning its beautiful array of desert hues. More specifically it was a collage of reds, yellows, and greens. These are the moments you live for. I began to question the point of rushing through life. Why do we often feel the need to be in a constant state of motion?

Late nights and early mornings have become a trend for me these days. My brazen attempts at getting a few more minutes of sleep each morning are often foiled by the sun. Its warm rays beam through the shutters onto my face without shame. There’s hardly ever a real need to rush, but I find myself at that crossroad time and time again. For the past few days, I’ve done nothing but watch movies and eat as if there were no tomorrow. There were no writing sessions or anything else of substance for that matter. For years I was of the belief that success required an unhealthy amount of obsession. I’ve read all the books. I’ve consumed all of the “guru” content and still felt unsettled. Driven by an insane desire to achieve more, my mental health suffered. I was a zombie. No matter what I published, I felt like a perpetual failure– nothing I’d write ever felt good enough.

A dark cloud of guilt would loom over me whenever I decided to step away from my craft, even if it were just for a moment to catch my breath. There are many people stuck in this trap. I’ve come to realize the folly of it all. You miss out on living by being consumed with chasing the proverbial pot at the end of the rainbow. There’s nothing wrong with desiring to become the best version of yourself, but you can’t forsake yourself in the process. I’ve been learning to embrace going with the flow more often in my life and it’s been nothing short of amazing.

Personally, this year won’t be about an insane amount of goals; this year will be about more living. There isn’t a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow when you’re running yourself into the ground, there’s only stress, discontentment, and pain. Today, I encourage you to re-evaluate what’s on your plate if you’ve been feeling pressured. Choose to live in the moment. Subscribe to more of what gives you joy. Dust off your hobbies and commit to finding yourself again. Make yourself a priority for a change, you’re worth it.

I Chose Grace

As the year comes to an emphatic close, I find myself at peace. This peace wasn’t the result of everything going according to plan, or everything working out the way I’d hoped. I’ll be the first to tell you I didn’t accomplish all of the lofty goals I’d set for myself at the beginning of this year. In fact, many of these goals are staring up at me from the inside of my journal reminding me of my humanity as I write this essay. If I judged myself purely on my accomplishments this year, It would be easy for me to admit I fell short.

This piece today isn’t a celebratory lap in the traditional sense. You won’t find any gloating about accomplishments. This piece today is about finding peace in the midst of unfinished business. This composition is about loving yourself right where you are, just as you are despite whether you moved the needle or not. I understand how difficult it is to cut yourself slack. You won’t ever be happy being hard on yourself.

This year, I chose grace. Extending grace to myself was one of the most beautiful gifts I could have ever given myself— it’s one of the most beautiful gifts you can give yourself as you take personal inventory. I found immense peace inside of this grace and it’s my hope that you will too. It’s liberating.

When you think back on this year I don’t want you to spend too much energy focusing on what’s left on the table. Like I always say, the manifestation of greatness takes time. Becoming the best version of yourself takes time. You will reach your promised land if you keep moving forward. Relish the moments you made yourself smile. Think of the small steps forward that made you proud. Think of the little victories that fed your confidence. Think of the moments that made your heart flutter with love. Relish the moments that made you believe in yourself again. As you begin thinking about next year, I want you to put a bigger emphasis on yourself. Choose to be kind to yourself as you bloom.

America Without Black People

After hundreds of years of enslavement, exploitation, and undermining in America, we as Black people find ourselves at an interesting place in history. It’s apparently clear where the line in the sand has been drawn despite America’s identity crisis. We’ve been sold America is this proverbial melting pot of happiness and opportunity for all if you’re willing to put in the work. All people are not afforded these “opportunities.” In fact, Black people have often been reduced to grotesque caricatures and subjects of intentionally skewed statistics based on white lies, white delusions of grandeur, and white self-righteousness. Our oppression is not a fallacy or an excuse. The truth is met with opposition when it doesn’t promote their version of reality. “All you do is talk about race,” they say when the pressure is on. “Black people just want someone to blame for their problems.” I’ve heard it all before. Anti-Blackness is widely accepted and doesn’t appear to be going away anytime soon. In spite of our challenges, we continue to rise.

As a Black man who has been able to appreciate a level of success, I still find myself being pressured to explain how and why I’ve been able to enjoy some of the fruits of my labor as if Black people aren’t supposed to have anything. Odd stares and awkward moments when I answer the door to my home are constant reminders of just how badly the scales have been tipped. I can’t help but laugh at the egregiousness of it all. With that being said, I’ve pondered what would become of America if Black people collectively decided to leave and never return.

While I understand this would never happen, I must be honest I’m intrigued by the thought. Would the nation descend into chaos? Would America be faced with an existential crisis? Who would be the face of the faux “inner city” per capita crime statistics? Where would their red herrings be perched? Without our people and our contributions to society, what would be left? Who would we become as a people if we stopped playing their game, essentially taking the ball and going home? That is the real question here.

Let the truth be known, America is and would be absolutely nothing without Black people. Appreciating and recognizing the importance of Black folks does not diminish other groups of people. While many seek to virtue signal and change the narrative when we seek to understand our history, I’m encouraged by many who are standing up to the double standard. When America decides to adequately address and take accountability for its sin against Black people, only then may we begin to see real progress.

Letting Love Lead the Way

The text message failed again; the call couldn’t be completed as dialed. The number hadn’t been in service for years. I found myself staring down at the phone as if it were not true. Of course, it was true. I wanted to trade the truth for a lie. My heart was exposed. She was gone and there was nothing I could do about it. Grief can easily alter the trajectory of the most well-intentioned day, and for me that day it did.

They said time healed all wounds, but what if time stood still? What if the past was too beautiful to let go of? I stayed to myself and pushed away the very people who wanted to be there for me. I still regret my actions to this day. Love was met with a stone wall. There was a coldness about me that I didn’t recognize. I was far too tough to let people in, even those closest to me.

I’d sit in the dark for hours just thinking of how just one word from my mother could wake me up from the nightmare. She was fine just months earlier, how could this possibly be the story of my life? Mothers weren’t supposed to die before their son’s thirtieth birthday. Mothers weren’t supposed to die before holding their grandchildren. The reality was a painful pill to swallow.

Today, I’m at peace. It took me some time to get there, but I’m thankful. I had to talk to someone; I couldn’t do it on my own. I’m writing this piece today to those who are dealing with the loss of a loved one. Although our stories may be different, the pain is the same.

Don’t let anyone rush you through your process. Some people try to put time periods on grief. You’re allowed to feel without guilt or judgment. I encourage you to be kind to yourself. Let love in and let it lead the way. Love is what gets you through tough days and nights. The road ahead won’t always be easy, but with love leading the way you’re in good hands.

The white Lie

The battle between good and evil is a story as old as time. This epic battle has captivated many of us since we were children. Stories filled with dark demons and the redeeming power of the “light” were commonplace. I’d never once pondered there could be a deeper meaning— a meaning that happens to be far more sinister than many can fathom.

The egregious illusion of white purity continues to be perpetuated by ghastly images of a blonde hair blue-eyed deeply European portrayal of Christ. Controversially speaking, white Jesus has been been the poster child of white supremacy for as long as I have been aware of my place in the world. Unapologetic Blackness is the ultimate antithesis and it shows. The deliberate attack on Blackness can be seen throughout history. It’s easy to spot the brazen attempts, but most Anti-Black assaults are subtle in nature. Disney movies, cartoons, and marketing ads all feature outdated juxtapositions.

Christianity has been the vehicle of choice used to further the white superiority complex and has aided the ever-growing racial divide. White-washed faux historical recounting has comfortably remained the backbone of America and many other parts of the world where colonization thrived. We must challenge damaging worldviews no matter how commonplace they appear.

When will Black stop being synonymous with all things evil? The light and dark juxtaposition where white is pure and black is filthy needs to be abolished today. It’s a poor attempt at covertly furthering the notion that white is the standard of all things good and holy.

I believe by continuing to challenge white supremacy, we can slowly disrupt and destroy the ideas and attitudes that were created to diminish our place in this country and the world alike.

Stay Out of the Sun, Boy.

My dark skin had always been a gift, although I didn’t quite understand it was at the time. For most of my life, I’d considered it my burden, my cross to bear. My mother said my Black skin was beautiful, but I couldn’t tell. Perhaps its beauty could be found hidden beneath snide jokes, criminal tropes, and slave references echoed throughout our society.

The inferiority complex sat comfortably atop my shoulder. Hyperaware of my hue, I secretly wished to be lighter. I felt judged by white and Black people alike. Colorism in all of its ugliness invaded my subconscious. “Oh, you’re getting so dark.” The shoe always dangled. “You need to stay out of the sun, boy.” My own grandma echoed these sentiments. It was believed your life would be difficult if you were too dark, alas my inferiority complex was born. I carried those ignorant beliefs with me until I realized they were rooted in fear and self-hatred.

I once considered myself collateral damage in the struggle for identity. I was ill-prepared to navigate the complexities of the Black experience. We rarely had real discussions about such matters in my home, school, or church. Shame, as I later understood it to be, was a difficult concept to conceptualize as a child who yearned to understand his place in the world.

My reflection in the mirror often made me feel uncomfortable. I’d look down when I’d lock eyes with myself. Over time, I became accustomed to being called too Black. Naturally, I didn’t hate my skin, but I often wondered why everyone else did. Demeaning words carelessly spoken validated my fears and insecurity.

Through life experiences, self-realization, and a deeper understanding of my history as a Black man, I learned to see this dark skin as a crown of glory. I am no longer the little boy who felt he paled in comparison to others. I am a strong Black man who is standing comfortably in who he is and embraces all aspects of his being. To those who’ve spent their lives feeling insecure about their dark skin, I understand. You were not cursed with darkness. You’re amazing just the way you are. All hues of Blackness are equally the embodiment of perfection.

Today's Reading: Digging Deep Within: A Story of Courage and Liberation (Chapter 1)

In today’s reading, B.W. McKay reads chapter 1 of his 2018 Novel, Digging Deep Within: A Story of Courage and Liberation.

To Purchase Digging Deep Within, please click here.

Shameless

I sat my phone down at the corner of my desk. My fingers dribbled along the edge as I processed what had just occurred. My ears burned from the lamentations. To put it as frankly as I can, some people don’t understand how absurd they appear. Being a chronic victim is not a badge of honor. People who pretend to care to mask their wants are disingenuous. When did blaming others for the bed they’ve made make them noble? I’ve always prided myself on being able to avoid or limit contact with people like this, but there are times they slip through the cracks. Just because we love someone doesn’t mean we have to deal with their unsavory behavior.

Answering the phone blindly while deeply entrenched in my writing wasn’t something I should’ve done. I should’ve ended the call as quickly as it began. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. How do we deal with the people in our lives who never have anything good to say? How do we manage our relationships with people who treat others poorly by consistently taking more than they give, using others with reckless abandon, all while claiming to be the perpetual victim? They’re shameless.

I used to answer the phone when I should’ve blocked them. I’d let people talk when I should’ve interrupted them and ended the interaction. I don’t have time for drama and foolishness in my life. This was an important lesson that I had to learn. Now more than ever it’s important to enforce boundaries. Protecting our minds is of the utmost importance, which means we must be selective with the energy we allow into our lives. You can’t be concerned with how they’ll take it, especially if you’ve already shared how you’ve felt. Shameless folks don’t appear to have social awareness. I’m all for giving people a chance, but there comes a time when you’ve said everything that can be said. Accountability doesn’t always feel good. Making excuses for friends and family who continue to violate your boundaries has to come to an end.

Today, I ask you to consider your feelings. Are there people you’ve been continually extending grace to with no change in behavior? How you feel matters. It’s time to make your well-being a priority and it starts with defining your personal boundaries. Once they’re defined they will govern how you interact with the people in your life and will also help you determine what you will and will not accept from others. The truth is not easy to share, but it must be spoken. It’s okay to be selective in regards to the people you choose to have around you. This chapter of your life is about peace; it’s okay to make it about you for once.

The Church: Love of God or Covert Abuse?

I lingered in the car long after the garage door had come to a close. The heat from my quad exhaust radiated throughout the garage as a single bead of sweat trickled down my forehead. What was supposed to be a chill evening with a friend had unfortunately morphed into something far more sinister. The mental strain of our conversation weighed heavy on me as I finally made my way into the house. How could a conversation birthed out of genuine connection turn into a compassionless rant about hell, sin, and God’s judgment? His words might as well have been knives. “These people out here are going to hell, bruh. They’re living in sin,” he said indignantly. “We’ve got to be holy.” He lambasted the choices people made with their lives as if he were faultless. His ears were not open to anything other than his points of view.

The Bible was his reference. It was the basis of his indignant call to action. It brought back memories. I was reminded of the many years I spent in that church, stumbling in the dark trying to find the light of free thought. It’s interesting how we’re asked to use logic in every other area of our lives, but when it comes to the things of God, we’re met with anger when we don’t understand. Use faith, they say when we become inconvenient. Our faith has brought us a mighty long way, make no mistake about it.

I’ve spent a majority of my life in the church and I honestly wish I hadn’t. The constant in-fighting regarding doctrine and theology became confusing at best. The “love of God” they bestowed felt more like covert abuse. Sincere questions triggered crusade-like attacks and differences of opinions led to stark condemnation. Often times the pastor loved to hear himself talk to the point where he believed we had to consult him before we made any major decisions in our lives. If you didn’t get his approval, you were banished, forgotten, and in some cases, the unfortunate object lesson in his sermons.

I can still remember the forced prayers and angry verbal lashes when we failed to follow orders. The subtle programming is hard to recognize. I lamented my youth for it. I spent a great deal of those years believing it was my duty to convert others. I was taught to ignore people’s own personal convictions, because after all, Christians know what’s best for everyone. Each person I could convince to believe in Christ became a notch in my belt. My church began to feel like a cult that bred us to become machines used to progress the “Kingdom of God.” Their use of the Lord to cut down, judge, and destroy the self-esteem of others began to cause me to take personal inventory. I cringe at the thought that I used to be this way. Years of extreme control destroyed my zeal. If that was love, it certainly didn’t feel good. One day, I decided to no longer participate. Church friends looked at me differently when I decided to walk away. I was the ultimate sinner, it seemed. Suffocated, unable to breathe, I had to leave for my own sanity. The Pastor I once looked up to as a young man no longer looked my way. I felt like a dirty outsider at first, but soon after, I gained my second wind; I was free.

Our spirituality is deeply personal; our faith in God is just that: our own. Over the years it’s been difficult for me to separate mainstream Christianity from racism, misogyny, and hatred. Some of the most radical people I’ve ever met were found right in the church. As a Black man, I often wondered why my church never dealt with slavery and the darker side of the faith. My views on institutionalized religion have dramatically changed.

While my experience is uniquely my own, I know others who share my critique of the church. I write this piece as openly and honestly as I can. I share these words to spark conversation. This is my truth and I’m not shying away from it. Know-it-all Christians will attempt to diagnose my thoughts. Some will read this and immediately begin to label me an unbeliever with a reprobate mind because of my authenticity of thought. I accept that and quite frankly expect it. Life isn’t black and white. If you dig beneath the surface you’ll discover you can believe in God and still question what you believe. This earthly experience is a remarkable journey.

Today, I stand tall as a free-thinking Black man who is no longer bound by the fear of my sincere thoughts and ideas. I’ve casted aside the box I once allowed the church to keep me in. In conclusion, I leave you with this: always remember you’re free to grow and evolve. People won’t always agree with your growth and that’s okay. Above all you must stay true to yourself.