I don't know if y'all have noticed, but this past month has been Black as hell, and I'm so here for it (obviously). From Nipsey Hussle to Beyoncé, and many others, April has been a month of putting Blackness and Black culture on a pedestal for all to see on a mainstream level. Watching Black folks shining, thriving, and being celebrated—even in tragedy—has been enlightening beyond belief. I just wanted us to take amount to highlight how extraordinarily important this is for our community, and how we can use this to further our growth, not just as a unit, but as individuals.
I'll start with Nipsey Hussle since I've mentioned him in previous posts. His untimely death at the hands of someone from his own neighborhood shook the Hip-Hop community in particular, and by extension wounded many Black folks collectively. Even Black folks who weren't familiar with Nipsey or his music were shaken, not just because Nipsey was a jewel to all who knew him and an asset to his own community at large, but because it hurts to watch Black people hurt. What's worse is knowing this pain was caused by one of our own, gunning Nipsey down once overtaken by ego and rage. It hurts to watch people grieve far and wide, and to be forced to face the truth: that to be Black in America is to have a special relationship with trauma, one we cannot escape.
But even in tragedy, miracles happen. Magic happens. Power happens.
We saw all of this play out the first week of April. Though the national coverage mainly focused on the tragedy, even the media couldn't help but avert their attention to the positive things Nipsey left behind—a legacy of Black empowerment, many forms of community support and investment, words that will never die thanks to his music, principles of unity, respect, and prosperity in the Black community. On and on and on. Even in death, Nipsey is inspiring people globally through his music and his actions, and for two weeks, two WHOLE weeks, the national media had no choice but to positively acknowledge a Black man for his Dedication to life itself (pun intended).
Even his funeral was lit! Because it wasn't a funeral—it was a celebration of life. There's just something about the way Black folks send their loved ones home; it's unlike anything else. We cry and we mourn, but we pay our respects through tribute, song, story, laughter, reassurance, and spiritual healing. We send our folks home the right way, leaving with reassurance that they are indeed in Paradise, and that we were blessed to have known them while they were here. Nipsey's celebration of life not only embodied this, but also encouraged our community through spiritual rituals and unprecedented strength from the Black women in particular (Nipsey's mother, life partner, sister, friends) who offered insight and encouragement. The decision to televise such a celebration was gracious and necessary. It showcased the unique power that Black people have when we set out to change the world, and confirmed how impactful we are when uplifted by the best of us. Though Nipsey is gone, his works and examples set have inspired many people in our community to extend a supporting hand, an olive branch, and a welcoming spirit to each other in a way that benefits all of us. What an amazing example of Black manhood, Black empowerment, and Black spiritual healing—all stemming from the trials, triumphs, selflessness, and sacrifices of one Black man who played the game of life the long way—a Marathon instead of a sprint.
And, of course, with such Black manhood also comes incredible examples of Black womanhood that boost and bind our community together.
And what better example of Black womanhood celebrated on a mainstream level than Beyoncé?
Y'all know what it is. Beyoncé BEEN all that, a bag a chips, and a glass of sweet tea on the side. In her 22-year career, Beyoncé has never shied away from her Blackness, her womanhood, or the intersection of both identities. As her career has blossomed, we've seen Bey cling to her identity even more, first highlight women empowerment with anthems like 'Single Ladies' and 'Run The World (Girls)', then Black women empowerment with hits like 'Formation' and 'Freedom'. But what she did with her Coachella performance in 2018 (aka "Beychella"), and now her Homecoming: A Film By Beyoncé release on Netflix, put Black-American cultural on pedestal on one of the largest (and whitest) music platforms in history for the entire world to admire .
The performance itself was two hours of nothing but Black dancers, musicians, vocalists, and Black-ass Beyoncé highlighting various Black-American staples we hold dear. It incorporated vastly different facets of our culture, and used energy, precision, and enthusiasm to give these things their just do. A year before Homecoming was released on Netflix—when Coachella broadcast this performance live on YouTube—I and many others were mesmerized by the overwhelming level of Black joy and talent being portrayed atop Beyoncé's self-designed pyramid stage. I watched in my living room wearing a robe and bonnet with my glass of wine in hand, and completely got my life as the HBCU culture jumped out on TV, from the band and drum line to the majorettes and steppers. One moment, I was on my feet cheering everyone on (literally yelling at the performers on TV like they could actually hear me gassing them up), then the next moment I was twerking in my living room with no shame as a special rendition of 'Crazy In Love' mixed with the timeless classic 'Back That Azz Up' by Juvenile was played live by the tremendous, all-Black band, just to find myself holding back tears moments later as Beyoncé performed a special rendition of the Black National Anthem. Yup, this show was BLACK-Black. For two hours, I experienced a rollercoaster of emotions as 200+ Black people of all shapes, shades, and sized poured their souls out on stage by way of talent and passion.
But, of all these emotions, the greatest was pride.
I was proud to be a Black woman—a Black-American woman. I was proud to see my culture put on display for the majority and the masses to see, to let them view enough to know how beautiful we are, but to also acknowledge how personal this was for people like myself who live and breathe this culture. While Beyoncé gave props to Blackness on a global scale, she made sure to make it clear who this performance was for: Black folks who deserve to shine but have been overlooked or devalued by the mainstream and the majority. This is how we arrive at Homecoming. Fast forward one year from Beychella 2018, just two weeks ago, Beyoncé drops a film that details the creation of such a grand performance, from her postpartum journey to the triumphs and challenges that made this two-night presentation a public love-letter to Black folks.
Out of all the amazing things about this film, the one thing I can't shake is how much care it took to push humanity to the forefront. We were shown the rawness of the beginning stages of putting things together, told about the hardships Beyoncé herself underwent with her pregnancy, motherhood, and her role as a wife, all while striving to be a great leader. We were shown highlights of the many hours of practice something this spectacular took to be close to perfection. We were made aware of the strength that comes with being vulnerable, and the wisdom that comes with being humble; it's all part of the process. Most importantly, we were shown that every single one of us who shares this culture is capable of showcasing its greatness while remaining true to self. It's not our jobs to conform to the ways of the mainstream, but to transform their perspectives by being the best at being ourselves. As she stated in some of the final frames of her film, Beyoncé puts in SO much work and has dedicated herself to gifting us with the things we didn't know were visually or creatively possible on such a large scale, all to show us that, according to her, "if my country ass can do it, so can you." WE can tell our own stories. WE can create our own change. WE can celebrate ourselves instead of waiting for others to do it for us.
Of course, Nip and Bey aren't the only ones who have made considerable impacts on our culture—they're only the most recent. Many others are doing the necessary work to embolden our communities and amplify our voices, even in the face of fear, adversity, and tragedy. I've decided to not let their messages fall on deaf ears. The work that Nipsey did and the work Beyoncé continues to do has inspired me to take a deep dive into my own capabilities and desires, and assess what I can use to help my community and celebrate who we are. I've decided to start here, with this blog, and aim to use my platform to help others realize their own un-wavering power and importance, even on our worst days. I'm here to walk in my divinity and to encourage you to do the same. I want Black folks to know that no matter what we go through, our worth consists of more than the things we've endured or conquered; our worth lies in the fact that in spite of everything, we are HERE. We exist, multiply, and thrive amongst ourselves. We are the product of ancestors who shaped our paths with their bare hands and feet, and now that the way has been paved, we can walk in our greatness prouder and stronger than ever. Looking at these two Black superstars and their fine examples of Black excellence—knowing what I know now—there's no way I won't hold my crowned-head high.
Comments