Black Reads: On Black Community
A love letter to my people, because we deserve love.
One of my most cherished childhood memories growing up was the Aggie Parade that marched down Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Drive to campus every year. Some years, I would wave to my family and friends lined up on the side of the street as I marched by with the community cheerleading team, and in high school with the AKA Cotillion participants. These are core memories for me because it was the DNA coding that many of us have that taught us what community was without words, and how to show up without a rule book.
Being in community with Black people has always been my safe space, and the older I get, I find myself being the one organizing community. One thing I’ve learned in the spaces I’ve curated over the years is that we often limit ourselves from all the benefits of community through our masks and performances of what we think community is supposed to be. And this is no shade, I’ve reflected on how this very thing has held me back many times in my life.
That’s why I feel I must speak on this topic.
Sometimes being in community means taking up space once we show up. Not being afraid to be ourselves in spaces that are designed for us to be free. Our individual uniqueness is what makes us blend so effortlessly, but we’ve somehow traded that for individuality over community. What pushed us away from each other? How did we start feeling uncomfortable with one another, but cosplaying as a community? I remember a time we could show up within our means and not even have to worry about being judged because no one was pretending; we used to call it keeping it real.
Community has become a real buzzword thrown around like a basketball bouncing from one ‘sub-community’ to the next. Accepting everyone as they are means accepting ourselves through the same lens, meaning if we are comfortable in our skin, taking up space in community cultivated as a safe space should flow naturally. And for many people, this is the case: community ignites us and pushes us towards our goals.
I remember a time when we were all kin just because of our skin. I miss that time, and my downfall might be hoping to get back to that time. At the very least, I’d love to see Blackstack be that safe space for us all to accept each other as family because we are Black writers just writing our way through our Black experiences together. Why can’t that just be enough to show up in every way?
The Recipe is Community
We carve it. We are all on this platform, even this publication to have it. The nostalgia of growing up with it and wondering where it went as we grow old. It’s safe to say many of us don’t realize this is our job to carry the tradition.
America is the Negro Problem
As I reflect on the resistance of Black people, especially in America, I can’t help but view us as the embodiment of the element water. How we flow through situations designed to be the dam that keeps us from progressing. Our ability to adapt to circumstances, spilling the remnants of our culture that others drink to qu…
Trying something new this week. Every week in the Blackstack chat thread, I start a thread for us to share our current published work here on Substack. It’s one of my favorite things to witness the way you all engage with each other’s work in the chat, coming back to share how much we resonate with each piece.
And because I also don’t enjoy the notifications that come in from chat threads, I too miss out on some great conversations. The idea is to bring the conversation to you, and then you can enjoy Black Reads in its entirety.
I was today’s years old when I found myself here 🙌🏾🖤 My vibe will attract my tribe 🤌🏾🔥