Week 20: Sunday Service Announcements

I see the testament of your perseverance, carved into the legacy of time.

Don’t look back; we are heading in a new direction. Our eyes show the years of betrayal with sparks of hope. We rise to the occasion in unity and pride. Betrayal has taught us to stand alone, keeping our enemies close.

We carry the future of our culture in our arms, that’s what we are fighting for.

Rest to nurture yourself back into wealth and exhaust your creative energy into things that will bring you joy. Show our youth what we tell them is the way to a better life, show them acceptance is the path to freedom.

Acceptance of ourselves as we are makes us whole, filling the void we seek outside of ourselves to fill.

If we fail to teach them this, then they will seek validation outside themselves in a world hyper-focused on preserving everything other than blackness.

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This is no ordinary love.

chandra

Yesterday was a perfect day for making love. The sky was casual grey as opposed to threatening grey, the kind that tells you a bad storm is coming. On casual gray days, your never-ending tasks move themselves to the outskirts of your to-do lists. They sort themselves in tidy rows just out of sight so that while still present they’re no longer pressing. The dishes and stacks of bills and dog’s dusty black coat that needs washing, do you the favor of making themselves less prominent in view, therefore turning you over to a free kind of feeling.

On days like this, I always think of my favorite love/r, now passed. He’s not passed in death but passed on from the realm of loving me. He should’ve never been my lover, but ours was a love forged in childhood, a sort of cosmic connection that the gods and stars select for you. They placed us on the paths that forced a crossing at the nascent ages of eleven and twelve. Tweenhood is the tenderest time for life-changing love to be revealed. We fought the cosmos, which is a losing game I can tell you, in case you’re thinking of trying. But the spirit realm wrapped us in a union so tight, I nearly died trying to get out of it.

While I didn’t die, I did shatter into a million pieces. Losing him was losing me. Since we don’t speak in words or facial expressions anymore I don’t know how it felt for him to give me away. But now older, I have wondered again and again, and I’m here now with you wondering still again, what makes a love like this.

The parts of this life-altering sum are innumerable. There was laughter so wild and unabashed that once at dinner, our server was embarrassed by us. I could see it in his apprehension to interrupt us during our meal which is squarely the job of a restaurant server. In America, servers don’t know how to let you live and linger over life. Everything here is about the bottom line. So your dinner is not actually yours, it belongs to the restaurant’s bottom line, which is why you have to be rushed through it with formulaic precision. But not this night.

There was sleep so deliciously sound and deep that waking beside him felt like coming to. I’ve always been a light sleeper; sleep often escapes me, even now. The slightest disturbance on any given day can disrupt my sleep a month into the future. Sleep therapists will tell you that you need a clearness of head and heart to sleep well. Stress is a disruptive culprit for rest, hunger another, loud noises, and extreme temperatures too. None of these could move the invisible insomniac needle while laying next to him.

He was my childhood and coming of age. He was the abandoned boardwalk in our hometown peppered with confused tourists and friendly stoners. And the wing spot on MMB where the wings aren’t that good but are championed as the best in town because we have to support local, black businesses. He was Friday night lights and then Saturday too, but Sunday’s never came on, which means Monday’s didn’t either– that hurt him. He was home. And if you’re one of the lucky ones, then you know what home means.

He was my family.

Black love is a necessary force in a world that so desperately tries to diminish our value. Without it, our survival is unlikely. But with it, inevitable. This is a monthly love column, written especially for the readers of BlackStack. We will tackle all the things that we’re not supposed to discuss about love, sex, and relationships that we privately feel, think, and ask each other in safe, intimate spaces.

This is a safe space on Substack for all of us and I want to say a huge thank you to Jacquie for entrusting me with so lofty an opportunity to write about Black love, the most nearest and dearest thing to my heart, and I can be certain, to this community.

What does love mean to you?
Are you dating someone from a different part of the diaspora?
Do high value men and women exist in the world of dating and marriage? Discrimination in dating
How does interracial dating make you feel– in a mixed union or outside of one?

We’re going to discuss all of these topics and more. And in true column form, it’s our hope that you’ll write to us too. Please share your love, relationship, and dating questions in the comments.

Does doing something for a decade make you an expert? While I’m not a dating or relationship expert, I have written a book about my own personal dating experiences and am seeking a publisher– hopefully more on that later. I also used to run a monthly salon series in town for friends to bring relationship and community issues that matter to the fore. It’s my guess that as this column and community grows we will have opportunities to feature experts across fields that can give you scientific relationship perspectives or at the very least some sound, expert advice. If nothing else, we will grow in our understanding of what Black love means in the here and now, together.

Welcome to the LoveStack, exclusively for BlackStack.

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A Testament to Your Brilliance

Shannon D. Smith

The brilliance I see in you is infinite, uncontainable, and unapologetic.

I see you standing tall, unshaken, even when the world tries to diminish your worth.

I see in you is a force that moves mountains, the spark of innovation, and the heartbeat of progress.

I see you rewriting narratives with courage, and reclaiming stories that were once stolen from us.

The brilliance I see in you is the fire of your determination, blazing a trail for others to follow.

I see you lifting others as you rise, extending your hand to pull them into the light you create.

I see the testament of your perseverance, carved into the legacy of time.

I see you inspiring those around you, breathing life into dreams once thought unattainable.

The brilliance I see in you is in the power of your words, words that heal, empower, and transform others.

I see you standing in rooms they said you didn’t belong, taking your rightful place with undeniable grace.

I see the love you give freely, in the communities you nurture and protect with care.

I see you breaking cycles of harm, building bridges of hope, and creating spaces where others can truly thrive.

The brilliance I see in you is the light of a thousand suns, illuminating paths once shrouded in darkness and doubt.

I see you standing as a reminder that greatness is not given—it is claimed, cultivated, and boldly embodied.

As I see you, I am inspired to see me and the bright, bold future we can cocreate together, hand in hand.

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Prayer Hotline

I pray you see more than the surface of yourself when you look in the mirror.

I pray you find a love for yourself that is unconditional.

I pray you claim your greatness.

I pray you honor your dreams.

I pray you see yourself through the lens of something that loves you.

I pray you experience more joy in the days ahead.

I pray you write more to discover more of you.

I pray your words heal you.

Amen. Asé.

Reminder: Monday, November 18th is Community Day for those interested in submitting for the Blackstack Magazine, this is the final deadline.