Holding…On

I wrote this about a week ago (Feb 7th) in a group thread where we all share our biggest struggles & how we’d like to be responded to. It took awhile to share here. But here goes.

Mmk. My turn! So mine comes with a photo-essay. 🙃😔

After 2 months of full court battle things have finally stabilized. The 4 of us in the core of have all turned the last major corner. There's still a lot to be done, but the triage is complete & there are clear, viable paths forward. The emails & messages of hate, distrust, & betrayal have more or less stopped. The barrage of “how are you doing's” & “how can I help’s” have ceded—which means far less navigation of who is asking out of loyalty & cadre support or investigation to utilize against me. And for that I'm grateful.

Now that most everyone has gone back to their regularly scheduled program, I'm finally able to catch my breath. The adrenaline has done its job. I'm finally not in crisis—which is so great & what has made it possible to release so much crippling anxiety & fear over the last week or so. Plans & paths of operation are ready to be chosen & followed. It's beautiful.

And.

Now I’m able to feel the actual restrictions to my chest & weight on my breath. Now I can actually feel the exhaustion that I've survived & the blood dripping from cauterized wounds & bruises. Before when I said, “I'm not okay,” it's because I couldn't feel anything. Now it's because I can. It's frustrating to me that it's taking so much time, energy, & capacity to move through this season…and yet it doesn't feel like I can really do anything about that.

At the end of last week I was so overwhelmed I was metaphorically paralyzed. Now that the fire had been safely suppressed, there were seemingly a million questions I needed to make decisions on before taking another step. So at a dear friend’s suggestion, I said them out loud. 40 Questions, 7 Confessions, & 13 “What if’s” later, the reason for my overwhelm became clear: I am going into this new beginning not with the excitement of starting to build something, or even the energy of a fresh project, but absolutely exhausted.

I'm so tired y'all. So damn tired. When everyone else goes home & back to their “other” worlds & spaces, this has come home with me every single day. When everyone else goes home, it’s just me & it hanging out in my living room & kitchen. And now that my sensitivity is returning I can feel it too. I don't have any more thoughts for it—just feelings in my body now. All I want to do is lay down & not get up. Not to eat, not to watch TV, not to go for a walk. And I'm pretty sure the only reason I've done any of that is because a friend has been here staying over with me on Tuesdays - Thursdays each week. Now I don't even want to do that. As things are expected to start ramping up, I feel like I need to power down. But I know from previous seasons of therapy that I don't actually do well when I power down—it only makes things worse: it's like a car during a snow storm—if you ever fully stop, there's a good chance you won't get moving again without serious injury. Even changing lanes is dicey.

This space is more important to me than it's ever been before because it's keeping me from getting dragged into the vortex of the neoliberal leanings that came with this project. And as you've probably gathered from my falling asleep in meetings, I'm so tired.

As I was talking to one of the other 3 in the core of this last week, a new knowledge began to settle for me. So here it goes. Imagine an explosion (like an IED for example).

There are those who felt the ground shake & had concern, many of whom gave great commentary on CNN about what they saw of the incident, speculations & “eye-witness” accounts tangled up with reporters doing all they could to get some photos.

Then there are those who were thrown back by the blast—some of whom may have been hit with shrapnel. Most of those folks will have trips to the hospital or urgent care in their immediate future. Many may even need some recover time from surgeries or whatnot.

Then there are the people who had their feet on the IED when it went off. And the people who were holding their hand as they were jumping off. Those people lose limbs. Those people all have forever injuries to the point that nothing about their body's movement will ever be the same. Even after years of PT, a prosthetic hand will never grip things the same. Those people will likely live the rest of their lives with night terrors.

And that last group is the category I'm in. Only a lot of people are also convinced I helped plant the IED in the 1st place, or at least helped disguise it so others couldn't tell where it was.

There's not really a solution or a direct ask here, except maybe to continue holding me with grace? Please don't give me a pass on things, but confront me with gentleness maybe? Cut me off if I'm talking too much because stress gets me rambling. Please don't try to make me comfortable, or give me what I want because you feel bad. Refrain from pity but do try to remember compassion through this long haul struggle. Because it's not going away or just “for awhile.” But consciousness feels really critical right now, and I cannot imagine anything worse than people making decisions or doing things they felt emotionally manipulated into doing.

With deep love & trust,

K. Marie

Ujima

To build and maintain our community together and make our brother's and sister's problems our problems and to solve them together.

I feel like the totality of my life work over the last 4 years has been in the name of ujima. Actually, I think that ujima captures the spirit of the struggle for Black liberation perfectly. All in one word. What is solidarity, if not to share one another’s problems? If not the recognition that none of us are free until all of us are free? And the Black component here actually feels critical, so I’m not suggesting to transplant Kwanzaa as a “movement” thing any more than I would expect Chanukah to be transplanted onto gentiles who have not even accepted the offering of “adoption” into the family of Abraham as heirs & joint-heirs.

Because, as with all things Black—it’s the only thing that actually invites progress for everyone else. A rising tide doesn’t actually lift all boats in a way that is meaningful—no matter how blue it glows. Thinking about it in this moment, it just dawned on me that lifting some boats might even result in capsizing. Every boat can’t handle the same tide. But what is true, is that no boat of any kind can move forward & accomplish that which it was made to do without first lifting their strong, critical, sunken black anchor. Until then, it’s just wobbly land. And that’s what comes to my mind when I see movement strategies that don’t center Black liberation. It doesn’t actually matter how beautiful, expensive, or tricked out a boat is if it can never leave the shore. As is also true, in my opinion & assessment, for social “justice” work of any kind.

The struggle of the African people is not, by any means, new. Nor are African peoples the only people who have faced oppression. Neither do all African consciously know suffering (regardless of the trauma found in their bodies). It feels important to qualify that when I say Black freedom struggle, it’s not because I believe white folks, or anyone else not of African descent (pre-settler colonialism), should suffer or be oppressed in our stead. What I am saying though, is that a commitment to one another will have revolutionary ramifications—regardless of what anyone chooses (or not) to do.

As always, easier said than done. But what might happen if we all took responsibility for building and maintaining the integrity of our community? What would accountability look like? What would we no longer, “just let go?” Where might we offer more grace? What would happen if we, as the African diaspora, chose to eliminate the phrase, “not my circus; not my monkeys,” from our vocabulary when it relates to one another—whether we are “in control” or not? How much warmer & rested might we be if we chose to recognize the lights within one another & stoke their fires rather than throwing shade? What if our love for one another could be strong enough to offer all of us a path to returning to right relationship with community—no matter the offense? To set boundaries in love, but not take that as license to disregard one another in times of need? How many conflicts might be settled in conversation rather than rising to mandate public call outs? I truly wonder what would happen…what would be the side effects…if we actively chose not to profit from one another’s mistakes, offenses, or suffering.

If we choose to relate to one another with shared effort and responsibility for our care, I believe there’s no limit to the amount of ground we might be able to cover. Today is Tuesday, December 28th, 2021. It may be decades since the birth of what we now call the Pan-African movement began, but I do believe that a free Africa will enable a free world.

I can’t speak about anyone else, band I won’t attempt to today, but I’m committed to messing around and getting free. I am convinced that is something that can only happen through the cultivation of a collective consciousness. Being in meaningful relationship with one another is the only way for any of us know if any African anywhere is oppressed, exploited, enslaved, or wounded in any way in their humanity. And from my study and experience, the only way to maintain that connection, and those relationships beyond moment of externally-imposed, shared, struggle is through a an active commitment to not abandon relationships (and by extension, people). They must, of course, change in manifestation—evolving as a part of development and evolution. But our commitments to restoration of connection must last beyond seasonal cooperation.

And to put it mildly, that is one of the most difficult practices I’ve ever endeavored to build. It’s one thing to say our problems are connected in an empathetic sort of way. But to solve them together is a whole other story. In a society where the natural order is exploitation and extraction for the sake of profit and power (whatever that looks like in a given context), to make it your business to approach all of our village’s individual issues as group projects is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. That makes it impossible to exploit one another. Because if I exploit you, then your problem is that you’re being exploited. And now I have a responsibility to help you solve that problem and to use my power and influence to do so. Which negates my decision to exploit in the first place. See how that works?

That’s kind of the point though. We must acknowledge that those of us whose lineage flows through to mother Africa have a shared spirit flowing through each of us. To engage one another as people whose problems we must work together to solve gives us a vested interest in not creating or instigating any of those problems ourselves. And to assume shared responsibility for our culture and structures means there’s no benefit to finding or assigning blame. Encouraging us to prioritize the embodying of lessons over the finding of fault. While this approach to existing among one another doesn’t mean individuals aren’t called to endure consequences for harm they most instigate, but just the opposite. It makes accountability possible. If the point is applying the lessons we’ve learned to future behaviors, rather than going over every single “wrong move” one has made, transformed engagement is much more likely and possible. It might just be the nudge of a difference between asking the question, “how do I adjust this plan to not get caught next time?” and, “how do I prevent this situation I’m in from happening again?”

I’m not viewing any of this with rose-colored glasses. But I am speaking to the possibility of a world I’ve never seen, based on what I have. And within that kind of communitarian society, I see the ability of our Black bodies to move forward together, rather than succumbing to any steps backwards. So I’d like to submit to you that from this day forward, we cease our hash-tagging community—and be one. If we gonna be out here, we might as well be out here, out here.

Je crois qu’un peuple instruit, ne sera jamais soumis. El pueblo unido, jamás será vencido. Khetha ubuntu.

Kujichagulia

Self-determination. What does that mean anyway? As someone who grew up racially ambiguous in a couple of really different environments, I’ve always struggled with that. At least, since I started intentionally celebrating Kwanzaa a few years back. I don’t think I had ever really heard of it before then actually. But I guess it’s just hard for me to imagine a world in which anyone has any control over defining or naming themselves, speaking for themselves, or even creating for themselves. I was taught those were always activities that were to be done, “a certain way.”

Black, white, African American, bi-racial, brown, colored, mixed, high-yellow, mulatto…just a few of the identifiers I’ve been given over time. Over the years, it hasn’t seemed to matter how I defined myself. I imagine that’s probably why I had never really given it much thought until I started doing racial equity work back in 2017. And even now, many people still give me names I never gave myself. Lazy, weird, off-putting, polarizing, kind, mean, manipulative, generous, inconsiderate, charismatic, graceful, outgoing, gentle, rough around the edges. It’s not just limited to how I am either—but what my roles or vocations are too. Singer, community organizer, motivational nurturer, activist, teacher, evangelist, preacher, elder, leader. So most days, the idea of defining myself seems like a pretty big waste of time. Even something as simple as acknowledging myself as an introvert—someone who recharges privately & is drained by large groups of people, is typically met with a, “no you’re not!!” As if they are somehow inside of my body and can discern what makes me tired and what doesn’t.

Only recently has the work of defining & naming myself become something important to me. And I use the word work intentionally. What I’ve discovered is that it’s actually much easier to let someone (or someones) tell you who you are and how you should be. Because self-determination actually requires self-awareness. And frankly, many of us just don’t reflect on ourselves or check ourselves out in the mirror outside of measuring the consequences of one stylistic choice over another. We’re too busy trying to keep food in our bellies and gas in the tank to be concerned about anything other than what we need to know to survive. Developing self-awareness is a luxury given by time and space. Time and space that most of us don’t have to give to anyone—least of all ourselves.

There’s a bible verse in the first chapter of James that talks about looking in the mirror and, after you’ve walked away, forgetting what you look like. The context is someone who is given instruction and doesn’t follow them. Or someone who has been given knowledge and wisdom, but doesn’t apply it to their lives or allow it to impact their actions or decisions. But like, who has time to look at their face in the mirror unless they are altering it in some way? No, but really. Who does that?? When was the last time you saw someone over the age of 5 just look in the mirror at themselves. Not to figure out what to fix or how, but just to look and learn. For me, I think that might just be never. And if so, I definitely don’t remember it.

Maybe it’s because I’m poor and spend most of my time around relatively poor people. But taking a moment to look at myself, then another few to think about what I’ve seen, then a few more still to name what it is that I’ve seen, is not a regular practice of mine. And when I do it metaphorically, it’s typically because I’m replaying a conversation over and over and over again in my head to see where I may have offended someone, or how I could have done a better job to articulating what I was thinking. How I should have paused longer before responding to a certain question. How I should (or shouldn’t) have made a certain look with my face. What questions I failed to ask. What many may refer to as my “self-awareness” is probably more accurately named my “self-critique.” Because I’m never actually looking to learn. Never looking to bear witness. I’m looking to improve or fix…because the one name I have cemented in my mind is “not good enough.”

To create with consideration of my own joy, rather than making something that might be most appealing to others, rarely crosses my mind. So when I think about doing any of these things myself, the first question that comes up is, “with what energy?” Quickly followed by, “but how??” Yes, I can use my physical vocal cords to say words, but how do I choose which words to use if not for what others would most like to hear? How do I decide what to name or how to define myself, if not for those who have the greatest power over the resources I need to survive? And okay, even if I can figure out all of those things, do I then code-switch so that I don’t become a source of discomfort for anyone else? There’s already enough tough stuff in this world—I don’t want to contribute to it being harder for anyone else…right? In a society of manufactured scarcity, it all just feels like too much.

But then…when I think about kujichagulia as something built upon the umoja of a particular people, that load seems to lighten. In my mind at least, it becomes for feasible to figure it out if we’re holding one another while we’re doing it. If we’re all connected, then have enough diversity to be able to discern the ways in which we are the same. To identify the pieces we share—and use our collective intelligence to give it a name. From that perspective, I suppose it doesn’t even really matter which word we land on. Because we’ve developed shared understanding along the way. It stops being about perfection & choosing the “right” word, and becomes more about cohesion, and strumming our common threads. What if defining, naming, speaking, & creating for ourselves isn’t four separate things—but one? What if it’s not word smithing, and thinking, and doing, and brainstorming? What if it’s not conferences or meetings? What if it’s bringing out some instruments, opening some space on the floor, and seeing what happens? What it it’s being present for what room looks and sounds like after an hour?

As a people, it’s so hard to bring us together—let alone get us to agree. I mean, have you seen the fights that break out when we try to discuss how to properly eat grits?! But at an individual level, it seems completely unrealistic to do all the naming, speaking, defining, & creating ourselves. (And then there’s the question of what do words matter if we don’t have a shared understanding of what they mean, but that’s an esoteric post for another time.) So we have to do it within the context (and with the support) of community. But I’ve found that if you play music loud enough for everyone to hear, somehow there’s no limit to the number of people who can do the electric slide in unison, regardless of what kind of music is being played. All you need is a couple of people to start it. Then it doesn’t even need a leader. And if someone who doesn’t know how to do the dance happens to be around, you can typically expect they’ll know by the end of the 2nd verse.

At this point in my very short life, to me kujichagulia is actually less about the specific acts of using a voice, pen, or paintbrush to express who we are. It’s about, as a community, finding the beat of our drums that is aligned with the beats of our hearts, playing it without hesitation, and vibing together. And individually, it’s about finding the way my body twists and turns and slides to the beat. Then it’s doing it with my eyes wide open, smiling at my people all around me. These days, when words mean so little and are more likely to become reasons to fight than unite, it feels more important than ever to find one’s tribe. The place, I’d say, where your self-determination is aligned with those around you. But I don’t think that has to happen through discourse. If the path to self-determination begins with self-discovery, maybe we don’t start with lifting the un-liftable loads of identification, synthesis, reflection, & experimentation. Maybe it begins by breathing into our own rhythms, and riding the beat home—wherever it leads.

Umoja

Kwanzaa is my favorite holiday. Actually, it’s the only one I celebrate. It’s so rich and beautiful and wholesome! How could you not love a holiday that’s all about building the strength & celebrating the value of community?! I still feel a bit torn about where the appropriation line falls around it. But as a Black woman descended from enslaved Africans on Turtle Island, I don’t really have to think about it too much. Thank God. The day after Xmas is the day when my breath begins to expand from all the happenings of the previous year. Whatever ups & downs, victories & losses, celebrations or days of mourning. I wake up on December 26th the way a lot of people wake up on December 24th or 25th. Filled with excitement & energy from the spirit of the day. But for some reason this year is different.

I’ve been avoiding lighting the first candle of Kwanzaa all day. It’s 11pm and I just lit today’s candle. The first night is my favorite. Not because it’s the beginning of the celebration, but because it grounds me. And at the end of a typical year for me, that’s something I desperately need. It’s also because the first night is the night the Black candle gets lit—the foundation upon which all other nights stand. It represents the people. As someone who believes in living a life of service, I try and make my people my north star in all that I do. Beginning every decision with, “who am I accountable to,” is not an uncommon practice for me. Not only is it the day that the Black candle gets lit, but it’s also the day whose sole focus on the unity of our people. That’s what keeps me energized and anchored throughout all of the struggles (represented by the red candles) of the year. And it’s from the people that I find my hope (represented by the green candles) that moves me through the year. Even when I can’t stand them (us).

As I look at my kinara from across the room, right now, I can’t help but notice something peculiar happening. Somehow, the Black candle is tilted just slightly in the direction of the red candles. And it’s causing the red candle most near it (representing the creativity born in struggle) to begin to melt as well. And as it melts, it’s begining to lean towards the next red candle (representing cooperative economics as a way of surviving through struggle). I’m also just now noticing that my kinara is backwards—the green candles are on the left, with the red on the right. But for some reason, I feel like I shouldn’t move it. I’m not particularly surprised by either of these events, but I do find them interesting. You see, I keep my kinara up all year long—resting right on top of my altar, with my mkeka resting underneath it. And recently I re-structured and updated my altar to better reflect who and how I am today. It really has been a transformative year. So I updated the photos that hang on the wall behind it, which represent the people, events, places, and even versions of my former self that have shaped who I am today (for better or worse). I also shifted some things around so that my most beautiful set of Bible books (yes, a set; it’s split into 5 physical books) stands right next to it. And, the thing that probably is having the biggest impact on the impact that the burning is having, I don’t change my candles every year either. I only change them when the center candle is too short to last all seven nights. So it’s not exactly shocking that it may have been mis-placed upon its return to the table.

What’s most curious to me, though, is the impact of having the candles of struggle being positioned as future, with the candles representing hope in the past. It’s a bit off-putting actually. And I pray to YHWH it’s not prophetic (LOL)! No…but seriously though, it’s 2021. Can we keep as much red in the past as possible please?! I’m sure I’ll re-orient the kinara tomorrow when any hot wax that drips tonight has dried. But in this moment, it feels appropriate.

As I began to shut things in my home down for the night, I knew it was time to light tonight’s candle. “It’s now or never,” I said to myself. But the moment I stepped into the living room, I began to cry. I cried as I returned the wall hanging that sits to the left of my altar to its home. I cried as I opened the kitchen drawer to get the lighter out. I cried as I lit the candle. I cried as I went to get a box of tissues. And I cried as I went to get my computer so I could write and hopefully let my fingers tell me why the hell I was crying so hard. And so now I’m sitting here, on the opposite side of the room from my leaning, backwards, kinara, with my computer in my lap as the brightest light in the room. Typing this, I realized I should turn it down…so I just did.

And as I take a deep breath, followed by an equally deep exhale, I know that the reason lighting this candle brought me to tears tonight is the same reason I’ve been avoiding it all day. It’s because when I think about the people—my people, my Black people, all I can do is cry. And to light a candle that represents the unity of our community breaks my heart because I feel like few things are further from the truth in this moment. I think of community leaders publicly denouncing one another without any direct conversation. I think of the divide and conquer us approach that has us biting each other on the way to get a taste of funding for our projects and lives. I think of elders who people have given up confronting because they no longer have ears willing to hear—only defend. I think of the isolation that keeps us so familiar with being alone that we can’t seem to figure out how to be together without competing. I think of the fact that we don’t hold one another unless it’s convenient. That we don’t knock on one another’s door unless it’s most profitable. I think of the fact that the generational divide never seems to end. And yet most of us posted a photo or essay saying “Umoja!” on our social media accounts today.

I’m not excluding myself from the “we” & “us” here. But that doesn’t make the heaviness on my heart any lighter. I sit here crying because my brother now sits in prison. A brother who tried so hard to be accepted by the Black community, but was turned away because he was “rude,” “weird,” “off,” “ignorant of his privilege,” etc. But in a state where there are less than 8,000 of us, how could it be that he rose to “community leader” alone? Without a group of brothers surrounding him & checking him? Without a group of sisters backing him up? He was working to build an incredible program that would pull the next generation of Black folks in this state together into relationship with one another. And regardless of his motives, shouldn’t that be something we all flocked to support? Shouldn’t that have been something we all were involved in? Shouldn’t it have been easy for him to find an oversight board when he called out to the Black folks here, rather than people barely even signing up to be engaged in the program (if at all) and never following through? It’s so easy to throw someone under the bus after they’ve been accused of horrible violations of trust—but where were we when he was asking trust of the white parents of Black children across the state? What were we doing that was so important we couldn’t take 4 hours out of our month to help a Black child in our community not be the only Black person they knew outside of the face in their bathroom mirrors?

What is unity of the Black community if we leave the uniting of our generations to one person—or worse, to chance? Over the last several weeks, my days have been filled with talking to white parents who are begging me to keep this program going. Somehow, they recognize this program of uniting Black children with Black adults as absolutely critical for their children. To them, they recognize that there is something they can’t be for their children—empathize with some of their struggles and simultaneously pour light onto the fire of their joy. Meanwhile, mentors are encouraging me to run for the hills to, “not be associated with it, because articles about this scandal are going to be the first thing people see when they look it up on Google.” Yes, those words have shown up in my inbox. What I’m writing here isn’t actually about my brother. It’s not about what he did or didn’t do. It’s not about his role as an abuser or survivor. It’s not about maintaining his humanity or vilifying him. It’s not even about what has happened—it’s about what we do next. It’s about our community’s responsibility in this moment to rise up and embrace these children across the state with care so that they don’t feel alone. So they don’t feel there was only one Black man in the state who thought they were worth making time for.

These kids don’t need our money—they need our time. Not our grand gestures, but our consistent, focused, energy. In a state like this one, our gatherings cannot be limited to those Black folks who see each other regularly or live in shared neighborhoods. And certainly not to those who fit our aesthetic. And we simply cannot afford to avoid, minimize, or sidestep the conflicts we have with one another. Our commitment to each other must be stronger than our desire for our own comfort. Our agape & phileo love stronger than our egos. The care of our community must be more important to us than the care of our individual reputations. So when I think about lighting a candle to celebrate the unity of Black people of the African diaspora, to me at least, crying seems the only appropriate response. A mourning for what has been. And as I sit alone in this room, a mourning for what I feel all too real. Just as strongly for my 13 year old self as my 30 year old self today.

Tonight, as I blow this candle out, there will be tear-stains dried down the length of my face. But before I do that, I have decided to honor it’s lighting as a prayer. Tonight and every night for the rest of this year’s Kwanzaa celebration. A prayer for unity when unity and strong, lasting, connection feels absolutely impossible. And since this prayer is much easier written or spoken than actualized, we might just need a bit more creativity than even faith before we see it while we’re awake. Tonight my spirit leans a little more towards struggle than hope. Yet, hope remains. We will all get through this moment, this season, this life, one way or another. The only real choice is if we’re going to do it alone or together. And so tonight, there will be no fanfare, no social media post, no catchy phrase. But I choose to respond to the question, “Habari Gani?” with a quietly whispered, “Umoja.” Let us know ubuntu more than we know anything else.

With Love,

K. Marie

Confronting Truth

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

Favorites—an Ode to Maria

Not checking emails & getting massages,
taking a nap & then hiding my watches.
Silencing my phone to stop all the rings,
these are a few of my favorite things.

Baths that last hours & warm weighted blankets,
slowly brewed herbal tea & meditations.
Hand-written letters from friends across seas,
these are a few of my favorite things!

During work days, paying taxes,
when I’m feeling sad…
I simply remember my favorite things, & I don’t feel so bad!

Individual Collectivity

Yesterday I was a part of a collective decision-making process for a group of about 60 people.

It was absolutely horrible. And incredibly educational.

I'll try not to touch on too many details, because they aren't really the point. But after taking the last few hours to process both independently and with a colleague, I'd like to share. There were several super valuable things that were highlighted for me during this 3 hour process. I can't make any promises, but I'll try to summarize them here. Here we go.

1) The quality of a decision will always be affected by the conditions under which it is made.

As much as we would like to say that the ends justify the means, the reality is that the means *impact* the ends. They can poison or prosper a decision or result that may have otherwise been healthy--even if the decision is the same. Asking someone to make a choice or come to a conclusion under duress or coercion reduces its integrity. We must combat the demands of "perfection" and urgency for urgency's sake with empathy, forethought, patience, and understanding.

2) Intent & purpose are best served explicitly.

If we don't make clear our "whys", the door remains inevitably open for everyone to assume their own "why." This would be great if we were all psychically linked. However, we're not. And where there's room to assume, there's room to folks to assume *differently.* And when we're making collective decisions by way of consensus--that, my friends, is a problem.

3) The how is important from the beginning. Process can't be an afterthought.

Yes--many of us have "built planes while in the air" and survived. But would any of us, after counting the actual cost, recommend our next flight be taken the same way? Of course not. Because as much as experience is a great teacher, it's easier to use a saw on the ground. As much as many of us would love to throw process to the wind and just "do," that's not only highly ineffective, but leaves equity to chance and typically hurts a lot of people needlessly in the process.

4) Equity is the result of intentionality.

Guess what? In 2018, capitalist "modern" society, we've all been conditioned to destroy equity and humanity. So if we aren't intentional about establishing equity, it's not going to happen. Imperialism has become imbedded in our DNA so marginalization is our default y'all. We know this.

5) The erasure of individuals is impractical & unhelpful.

As much as I appreciate the commitment to collectivity, condemning conversation that is not almost strictly "we" is problematic as well. In fact, the use of "we" when it should be "I" is used frequently to speak on behalf of those who haven't actually voiced their position. Taking responsibility for our own experiences actually requires the appropriate use of "I" statements and not assuming we have the ability to speak for others without their involvement or consent is a key piece of healthy communication.

Also, a healthy, authentic collective understands the value of the individual within the collective. The the full expression and realization of the diversity of each individual is why many of us are fighting for liberation. So as much as we embrace the "one for all" mentality, we cannot neglect the beauty of "all for one" either. While this typically slows processes down and is, for many, counter-intuitive, we have to remember that many of our intuitive behaviors have been molded by oppressive systems. Our determination to challenge our "norms" and choose equity over equality is what saves us from "mob mentality."

6) People are triune beings--mind, body, & spirit. And our decisions are impacted by all three.

Pretending we can be all knowledge and action leads to escapist (often self-harmful) choices and mental breakdowns. I have often heard the phrase "hurt people hurt people," when discussing the reasons for people making inconsiderate or harmful choices that negatively impact others. I'd like to take that a step further with, "Broken people build systems that break." If we do not do the difficult work of deconstructing our own internalized oppression as a priority than whatever we build 'after' we conquer this oppressive system will only serve to oppress in new ways. Our histories and trauma enter into every decision we make, so we have to not only be aware of them, but actively work to heal them. Oppressive systems have worked to dehumanize people for centuries--this includes the devaluing and lack of acceptance for our emotional and spiritual experience. If we are to truly work to see the humanity of all beings restored, we must begin with reclaiming our own as we do the work, not afterwards. That is what liberation looks like.

7) Bias will never be eradicated, so we have to keep good track of its location.

Even those of us with the best intentions of "balance," have bias. Every interaction we have with human beings and media shapes and develops our preconceived favor or misgivings about a situation or person. That's how we're wired for survival! So trying to achieve this unattainable goal of "impartiality" or "unbiased" anything isn't just unrealistic, it's problematic because it offers the illusion that "unbiased" is something that it's actually possible for a human to obtain. What's far more helpful is that we are able to quickly assess where our bias lies when entering a situation so that we might have the ability to filter the words we say & decisions we make through that lens to ensure that our reason for doing something isn't solely our bias for or against something.

8) Words matter. Clear communication doesn't happen by accident.

It may "all be semantics," but semantics actually has an effect on things. If we all agree to run to the nearest store in a little bit, but for some people that means a gas station within the hour and for others it's a Walmart in the next 5 minutes, we're not likely to end up at the same destination at the same time--if ever, together. As a friend of mine likes to say, "Words mean things. And people believe them." So we have to be intentional about what we say because we are certain to develop feelings/ideas and eventually act upon them. And ain't nobody got time to build houses based on misunderstanding the instructions.

Ultimately, culture is everything. All I've just said falls secondary to it. So we have to build and mold our communities with who we want to be when we arrive at our destination at the forefront of our minds. As many a cultural consultant will tell you: "Culture eats strategy for breakfast." So we can't just talk it and occasionally walk it, we've got to live it.

Good things ahead y'all. Leggo!

<3 K. Marie

Multi-ethnic Jesus

Can I talk a moment to be transparent? Thanks y’all.

I’m, frankly, tired. Due to where I live, my identity as a person of color must be muted, rather than exemplified, when it comes to practicing my faith. It frustrates and saddens me that to wear my “Black Lives Matter” shirt into my church would be “asking for trouble.”

Now we all know that there are times and places where we, regularly, have to mute certain things. For example: Bringing up politics at work isn’t typically recommended. And certain industries require a level of temperance from those who might be a bit more rambunctious by nature. So I’m not being naïve and saying that my “full self” should be on display everywhere I go. But what I am saying is that when I walk into my church, I put every part of me through a sifter—ensuring that none of the pieces that make me “different” are too large or loud. And I am exhausted.

The problem is: What’s the alternative?

You see, I live in northwestern Vermont. And while I live in the most diverse county in the state, the state-wide population is still at least 90% white. It always has been, but lately it’s looking more and more like it won’t always be, as each year the amount of diversity flooding one of the healthiest, whitest, and safest states in the Union is increasing exponentially. Known to many as “where Bernie Sanders is from,” there’s not really a lot going on here, besides, well, an influx of brown people. And on paper, that’s working out great! Vermont law-makers are known to be “progressive” and “inclusive.” I mean, the state that took on Monsanto must be forward-thinking, right? Of course. Vermont is, technically, forward thinking in a lot of ways. But unfortunately, our forward-“thoughts” are often more forward-“ideas” that aren’t rooted in experience or practice. They aren’t the result of community interaction, but rather external observations. So, while we say “all are welcome,” what is lived is “come and be like us.” And because it is assumed that this inclusive mentality is just as strong in reality as it is on paper, the idea of “training” on the topic is seen as an insult. It’s astonishing just how often I’ve heard that “Hate doesn’t grow in the rocky soil of Vermont.” That “racism doesn’t exist here.” Or, best of all, “All lives matter here.”

Now please don’t misunderstand me, if all of these things were actually true, I would be singing an entirely different tune. But the greatest danger here is that the words are out in full force, but the actions and reality don’t match. A part of the reason we’re in this predicament is because, from the perspective of thousands of well-meaning white people, the statements above are completely true based on their experiences. The issue, however, is that the experiences of every single person of color over the age of 10 stands in direct conflict with those perspectives.

Yes, I said the age of 10. That was not a typo. The struggle is real.

Church, for me, has always been something I’ve desired to be a safe space. In fact, over the course of history, places of worship have usually gone into the “safe space” territory. And growing up, my faith was always a central part of my culture. But, as a millennial woman of color, the contemporary, white church that I grew up loving (not the exact same church, but a similar one) has become more of a “space,” where I’m allowed and welcomed, but my “blackness” is tolerated, not embraced. Rather than being a place of refuge where I can find freedom, it is, most days, a place where I can worship as long as I crucify my “flesh.” Again, please don’t misunderstand—I have a deep appreciation for the call to holiness and sacrificing my desires for will of God. But at what point do we acknowledge that all things culture-based are not displeasing to God? At what point do we recognize that somewhere along the way we’ve lumped in ethnicity that is “different from our own” in with the poor & lowly? As something to be “improved upon?” As something that “we just don’t do here?” If the Spirit of God dwells here, then how can there be limits on what “we do?” Shouldn’t there only be the tearing down of boxes that we put His manifestation in, not reinforcement of their borders?

There is nothing more diverse and inclusive than the Holy-Spirit. He is all things to all people. And as you travel the world and begin to see His Presence through a wider lens, the manifestation of His Spirit is more of a technicolor dream coat than a robe of pure white. After all, isn’t the grafting in of other nations a big part of the reason Jesus (Yeshua) came? So that those who weren’t the biological descendants of Abram could become a part of the lineage of Abraham? And in what’s now know as the Great Commission, Jesus said to “make disciples of all nations,” which is to help the people learn of [him], believe in [Him], and obey [His] words. He didn’t say to help the people learn English, sing songs with these chord progressions, and only talk about these topics & rejoice in this way so that the people who have been here a long time can remain comfortable. When Jesus instructed the disciples to drop their nets and “Follow Me,” I don’t recall him asking them to also, “stop speaking your native tongue.” In fact, on the day of Pentecost, which is arguably one of the most glorious outpourings of Holy Spirit in the Anno Domini church, the members of the body all began to speak in other languages! I think here it’s important to note that what it didn’t do was allow all people to speak one language. What that tells me about the Holy Spirit is that it takes the path of flourishing diversity to achieve unity, not the path of assimilation.

So when I enter a church that I call my home, whose congregation is becoming increasingly sprinkled with people of color, and the inclusion of my (our) culture is an afterthought rather than a priority—an uphill battle rather than an exciting step of development, I am tired. When the leadership sees diversity training as optional or not a priority because “we’re all the same in Christ,” I am concerned because while Christ might make us pure in the eyes of God, He doesn’t make us all white. I am tired because church is all fine and well, as long as I come with my quiet, reserved, minimized face on so that no one is intimidated or uncomfortable or offended.

But sometimes, I just want to come as me--all of me.

How and When Lives Matter

If you have not yet come around to #blacklivesmatter on the principle that #alllivesmatter, I do not judge you or think less of you. And I certainly don’t think you’re a “bad” or “stupid” person. But, similar to those who oppose feminism out of concern for true equality, I think there’s simply a misconception (likely no fault of your own) on what this movement is truly about. Facts remain that (in general) in the United States of America (and its media) African Americans are treated radically different for a variety of “reasons.” The problem, I’d like to suggest, isn’t that justice was not brought for the deaths of the Tamir Rices & Freddie Greys. It’s that a system that claims to be colorblind is very clearly not. It’s when a young brown boy (Tamir Rice) & a young white man (Dylan Roof) have the police meet them with different responses–choosing a more strategic & gentle route with the one of the two who had already accrued a body count upon their arrival.

If the problem were the lack of justice actually obtained with our justice system, this fight would read something like #justicematters. But that fact is not the one for which resolution is currently being sought. The problem that the #blacklivesmatter movement is attempting to address is that African Americans, or “Blacks” are treated with far more hostility & less rationality than “Whites.” The issue here is not simply the mistreatment of one group of people, but the lack of EQUAL treatment for everyone.

You see, it’s not the shooters that are the primary problem here, it’s the system that processes them and tells them that there are different standards of appropriate, wise, and safe self governance depending on the amount of melanin in your skin. The thing here, is that this is not a black vs. white issue–although many would have you believe it is. It is an established and imbalanced system vs. social equality. If this were simply a government issue, it wouldn’t be that big of an issue; the root is far more embedded and subconscious than most realize because it’s the ingrained belief and social norm that African Americans are more aggressive, less rational, more manipulative, and less contributing than other members of society BECAUSE they are African American. This more, in turn, allows society to find it acceptable that they are treated more sternly–as one would misbehaving children, than others. Unfortunately, this is the same mentality that determines a “successful & respectable” black adult to be an exception rather than the standard. Which, in celebrating the “rare occurrence” of an admirable black person, and simply reporting their failures, reaffirms this idea. When that which is considered standard for the white youth is considered impressive for the black youth, their view of themselves (along with the community’s view of them) is further shaped in the current unbalanced mold of our culture. It subconsciously justifies the different treatment. And it’s a cycle that self-propels, accommodates, and rationalizes.

The most dangerous thing I’ve found this far is, however, that I haven’t a single realistic clue on how to stop it.

-Selah-

Charleston, SC

I’ve been struggling all day to find any words to adequately express how I’m feeling.

Grieved doesn’t seem heavy enough, but I can’t think of a word that describes this torment my heart is enduring any better.

I am not in so much pain today because these victims were black, nor because they were Christians.

I am in mourning today because there were ten human beings whose humanity was ripped away from them at the hand of the senseless hate that was allowed to quietly take hold of a young man in a society that gave him the gift of freedom of belief without the responsibility of morality.

Because of an age that taught him to do and be what he wanted fearlessly with no concern for the consequences. Because of the generation that gave him the courage to take a stand without the requirement of socially accountable intentions.

We’ve done a flawless job of teaching the ideology of independent freedoms & self-sufficiency, but failed at teaching to love one another in unity. A soul so passionately consumed with hate is already dead. There are ten souls today I grieve for, because my Savior taught me that all lives do matter–regardless of my judgement of their worthiness.

We’re in this together, and the cycle of hate-inspired hate must end today.

What’s Really Lacking?

There’s this idea in modern-day “black” churches that what’s killing ministries is “familiarity” of leaders with those they are leading.

Another idea?

What’s killing modern-day “black” churches is the ideology of “elitism” that breeds the thought that they should not be “casual” with those they are leading combined with the “unmasking” of a true self when “familiarity,” occurs.

Who you are at church should be no different than who you are at home. That is, if your church is a true community of believers gathering for the encouragement of one another in following the will of God.

No, every single person cannot handle the responsibility of knowing your weaknesses or private business. Nor can every person know every detail of your personality & who you are. But that’s not just because of your anointing. It’s because you’re a real person dealing with real people & that doesn’t change simply because you put on a collar. There are just more people knocking at your door then there were before.

BUT, if you are who you promote yourself to be then there should be no “shell-shock” or “kickback” when they get to know “the real you.” When in ministry, getting to know you at a personal level should delve deeper into the knowledge of the same person, not reveal an entirely different identity.

What’s destroying our “black” churches is the same thing that’s destroying our “black” families & communities.

A lack of knowledge & a wealth of pride. A lack of understanding & a wealth of judgement. A lack of honesty & a wealth of costumes. A lack of faith & a wealth of jadedness. A lack of work ethic & a wealth of excuses. A lack of love & a wealth of lust.

If we would simply take the time to stop excluding ourselves from the rest of the “church,” recognizing that “the world rejecting us” is not the same thing as not putting forth the effort to obtain the tools necessary for success, we would be much better off as a people.

If we loved one another & worked together more than we sought out someone to blame for our “times of affliction,” & mistakes, we could grow into this thing commonly referred to by others as an actual community.

If we only took the time to practice what HE preached, we could become a true “we,” in which the ever dominating “them,” is welcomed & transformed into an “us.”

Don’t we all want to live in a place where people are patient & kind to one another? Not overtaken by envy, voices always boasting, out of pride. Where the majority of people aren’t selfish & constantly angry to the point of ruining the integrity & relationships of others?

Wouldn’t we all prefer a place where our mistakes aren’t held against us all the time, & people are happy when you tell (and prefer to tell you) the truth, even if it’s hard to hear? An environment where people protect each other, trust each other, & get through things together?

Now of course none of this is easy to achieve, but it is actually quite simple.

You see, faith, hope, & love prevail. But the greatest of these, is love.

Let’s have more love y’all.

Organizations Over People?

When did we start to choose entities over individuals?

And why does that remain to be okay?

Our lives should have Christ at the center, then family & intimate relationships, THEN all other institutions created for the purpose of coming together for a common goal?

When did serving our churches become of greater priority than serving our families?

There is a very distinct difference between placing God before all else & placing “church” above all other things.

There is an order that we must begin to restore to our communities or else the foundation of our society will remain shaky. Our relationship with God allows us to build families & relationships with one another. And our churches are built upon those relationships.

Now I’m not saying that we should stop going to church in order to have “family day” every week at Chuck-E-Cheese. But what I am saying is that the needs of individuals who are closest to us should surpass the wants of our church institutions. In fact, the desires & actions of our churches should be rooted & determined -by- the needs of our relationships, just as our relationships are rooted & determined by our relationship with God.

I mean honestly, how will people you love feel if you continually choose church (not God, but church itself), over them? And, of course, that’s the same way God feels when we choose people over Him. Everything suffers if we neglect the building of one level & simply move on to the next. Think Jenga–but with your life.

Our churches reflect our relationships, which reflect our relationship with God–because they are built upon one another. Is it any wonder that in a time of such separation & deviation from intimate relationships with God that we have so many broken homes, resulting in so many ineffective churches?

If we refuse to make our family & core relationships our number 2 priority after God himself, then our churches will never be strong enough to successfully replenish, restore, rebuild, & refresh our communities–or our world.

The Most Beautiful Dream

I was in the sanctuary of my church & it was totally packed. There were ppl there from every phase of my life–college, high school, various jobs I had worked, as well as those type of ppl for other members of the church & random strangers I’d never met.

Anyway, we were having service & for some reason the deacon & I were in the back kitchen area. There was a partially eaten pizza there. When he came back I told him to handle it, since we didn’t want it just sitting out & we typically didn’t keep food out in the open upstairs as there’s no eating in the sanctuary.

So I walk out into the sanctuary, leaving him behind me, and when he comes out, he goes to the pulpit with the half-full pizza box & begins to offer it to anyone who wants some. When I start to look at him crazy like, “what are you doing?!?” he gets frazzled & the pizza falls out of the box, onto the pulpit carpet.

Then my Pastor gets up & begins to publicly rebuke him.

And he turns on me. He says that I told him to do it. When I refute that & say that I didn’t it begins to come out that there are other things that he has blames me for–that he acted under my instruction, which I never gave. Then another church member chimes in from leadership & it turns into a big public argument.

Then all of a sudden ppl in the congregation, the guests in particular, begin to fret–several start crying & a couple get upset & explain why. Because they came to the House of God for Jesus, someone they were so excited to meet because of everything they’d heard about him, but this turned them all the way off. They were crying because they were so disappointed that Christ couldn’t be found here either because they had been searching for so long. They were in a distraught frenzy.

Then I stood up & addressed them. I turned to them & said that us being a Christian didn’t mean that we don’t fight…that we don’t have arguments & get upset with one another. But it means that when we get here, upset & angry, at the point of division, we can get together & kneel at the altar, taking it to Christ, the one who heals all wounds & hearts. The one whose love can make it right. The one who can bring reconciliation to the hardest of hearts. We can go down together to get rid of every weight & burden & come up unified as one again.

When I neared the end of what I was saying, the whole atmosphere began to change. The weeping turned to smiles & everyone in the room turned, with overwhelming joy, to worship! All confusion was gone & a bright light shone through the room as more & more ppl stood to worship, at the same time, on one accord. Everyone was going to the altar together with honest hearts, believing that if they all went to the altar together, they could all find what they were looking for. And as I turned to join them, the room didn’t break out in shouting or even in crying & singing that I recall. It was an inaudible sound that can only be identified as heavenly. It was a sound that overwhelmed my heart & enabled me to feel beauty all around me as people began to give themselves to Christ, on their own, without the leading of a pastor or minister–but of their own private, intimate conversations with the overwhelming presence of God that had arrived.

It was incredible. By far the best dream I’ve ever had in my life. One I don’t doubt I’ll never forget.

Just last night, I dreamed of Kingdom.

Don’t Pause Your Thoughts

In order to stand up for what you believe in, you must first know what you believe.

To fight for your rights, you must first know what your rights are.

The only way to enlighten others, is to first be enlightened.

You should not be afraid to think. It isn't a taxing task. It is harder to do the opposite. We think every moment of every day about every decision we are called upon to make.

The human brain is one of the most powerful things in this universe. It can reason. It can ignore. It can focus. It can elaborate. It can change. So put it to use.

Think about more than the color of your nail polish or what you will have for breakfast. It was made to multitask.

Think about issues facing our race as a whole. Which race? The human race. And in the least, issues facing your society.

Be it equal rights among all, discrimination for ANY reason, the war on terrorism, or world poverty & hunger.

Never pause in your thinking, because you never know when it will be your decision that will make the difference.

Perfect Blend

Caramel. Vanilla. Coffee Bean. Cream. Chocolate--milk, dark, & white.

Each with it's own amazing traits. But one without all the rest is just plain...and boring.

The best is when all are mixed in various amounts with no overwhelming flavor. When all come together, you can taste all of them--at the same time.

It's beautiful on the eyes. Delicious to the tounge. Sensational to the mind. And indefinably amazing to the heart.

Define the word blend?

The perfect coffee.