One day, after a confrontation about the racial experiences of my youth, some people that meant the world to me looked me in the face & said, “I’m done; have a nice life,” followed by, “you need to leave, right now.” And so I left in tears. In the months that followed, no one one else in that community stood with me, or stood up for me. And I discovered I’d never actually had any allies there to begin with.

And that’s okay. But I can’t erase their fingerprints from my life. I honor them because they taught me how to share all you have even when everyone calls you a fool. How to help people even when you’re pissed at them. How to show up even when nobody else will. How to make the hard calls and stand your ground even if it means getting in the way of what’s convenient. Members of that community taught me that there is nothing more important than the presence & care of the people who love you.

And even thought I haven’t entered rooms with them since, my ritual of publicly honoring them at the beginning of every gathering, lecture, speech, presentation, & project stands just as it did before. And I can’t imagine it will ever change. Even though the people who taught me the most are no longer even there, that community shaped me into the person I am today. So today, I honor them still.

The commitment to tell the truth in love, even when it offends everyone in the room may have cost me their fellowship. But that unapologetic commitment is what brought me into relationship with the community I have today. A community that fights alongside me, even when it’s unpopular. A community that doesn’t throw anyone away, even when we deserve it. A community that will fight with me—loud & passionate & real. A community that cares for me, as I am, in word & deed. A community that isn’t inconvenienced by my needs, but treats them as their own. A multiracial community of loving, sincere people, & mostly poor people who will show up when I call & save the questions until they arrive.

And so, as painful & heartbreaking as that day was just a little over a year ago, I consider myself lucky for that confrontation. Because, now the curse of crying in pain on the most important, special days of my life has finally been broken. My birthday this year was the absolute best I’ve ever had—and it was my 30th! Beloved community isn’t just the imaginary things of dreams; it’s now my reality.

All this to say, I couldn’t possibly be more grateful for those I’m gathering with season. They’re the reason I can step into the most difficult role of my life, while reeling from a tragedy I could have never imagined, & still walk with grace. Ubuntu—now & always. I truly am humbled by love. Onward together; no stepping back. Joyeux Noël mes amis.

Incredible things ahead,

KMB