Black History Month

It is once again the final day of black history month. 26 times I have experienced this and it seems to reoccur every year with less and less significance. As we move to what a number have considered until recently (with the newest presidential election) a post racial society the stories, achievements and power of black bodies seems to become less and less significant.

How do we create a space where no one is left behind? How to we carve out space for those who do not fit into the rigid and unnecessary parameters of black exceptionalism, respectability, or wokeness Without allowing our lives, intellect and ambition to be overturned by the consumption of modern day minstrel shows, the enticing cravings for validation from mass media and emptiness it brings, or excuses for genuine bad behavior?

I end today by reflecting on all of my fellow black americans; those in government office, those experiencing physical or mental violence, those who are my friends. Advocates and civil rights leaders, those who are living their best lives and those who live at the intersections of varying oppressions and those warehoused in cages we call prisons. I see you.

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