Black 

It is the name I have been given in the place which I was risen. Black. What is black?  It is  the first thing that you will see when you meet  me, which is  funny to me because when I look in the mirror, I see a nice Golden Honey Brown. As the great linguist James  Baldwin once  said,  “I realized when I was very young, that whatever it was  that he was looking at, it wasn’t me” (James  Baldwin). Black is  the color that is not a  color at all.  It is the evil villain in every movie, good versus bad black versus  white. “Black is evil. The saved are white.” (James  Baldwin).  Blacklist, black market, black magic these are the things you would have us see. 

So, what is  Black?

 It is the crown that I wear and the smile I share to know that the blood of so many great  BLACK heroes runs through my veins:  Ella Baker, Fanny Lou Hamer, Queen Neithikret, Septima Poinsette Clark. 

It is not the bondage or chains that the media wants it to be. 

But the eternal bond that ties me to  a great  nation.  It is this bond we share that  allows us to have an entire conversation in a glance at a distance.  Black is the unspoken union among strangers, bound like family. Black is knowing that in this random  moment  at the  grocery store  for  a  brief window of time the divine light in me recognizes the divine light in you. 

Black is being raised by a woman who possesses  not  only beauty and curves but who is  also intelligent, resilient, and has unparalleled strength. Strength, the capacity of an object or substance to withstand great force or  pressure (Oxford Dictionary).  My Mother’s love is a shield from all this hatred I feel.  Her relentless pursuit, elegance and grace provides me the ability to smile when I should be holding back  tears. While others say she is tough, unloving, or angry, I will forever silently hold the truth and reasons of why she raised me thus. I am eternally grateful for the gifts that she gave me. Black. 

 Black, is choosing a partner with ultimate wisdom and power who can teach my unborn son to return home  alive. Teaching him  how  to politically  navigate your  presumptuous  questions: 

“Hey  Man, you got  any….. (insert drug here). 

Hey, Brother you look familiar, do you live here? 

 Do you have identification?”  

 After all;

 “Black Privilege is me having memorized my unconceived child’s eulogy” (Crystal  Valentine).

 If only bullets could kill racism. 

What is Black? 

Black is beautiful!  

 It is the golden bouncing curls, and a natural ability to adapt in any situation. 

 It is  the  knowledge that the shark  that raised me made me phenomenal; independent  and lacking lazy.   “Cause I’m a woman. Phenomenally. Phenomenal  woman, That’s me”  (Maya Angelou).

 And to the younger me, the scared me I would say  this; “remember to always hold your  head high because you are

Black!” 

Written By Latesha Townsend

Professional Photo by @kmhforte.jpeg

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