I am heavy right now. Heavy with the loss of my mother in law. Heavy with the pain of my spouse, my children, my family. Heavy with the realization that my spouse, like many others…will continue to work towards a collective freedom, justice, and equality…through their personal pain…frustration…and illnesses. Not really taking a minute…because there isn’t one. I am heavy with the knowledge that the struggle for freedom does not stop…because of pain…because of loss. Instead, it is spurred. I ain’t mad…but, yes, I am heavy. Heavy with the thought that Black mothers continue to mourn the death of their children while STILL marching…resisting…bearing the brunt of the entire movement…challenging white supremacist capitalist patriarchy…while making 7.25 an hour…

I am mourning. I am mourning the loss of my mother in law, who, like so many who, understood the necessity of sacrifice through the pain…through the loss…and through the fatigue. How mothers, particularly single mothers, who, like Jesus’ mama, Mary…raise messiah’s who understand our community is filled with other messiah’s, painted as criminals…blasphemers, who in reality are survivors…who are undocumented…who are lovers…who are gay…who are straight…who are trans…who are queer…who get high…who get drunk…who eat pork…who call God by different names…who are all people who exist by the permission of the Divine and fight every day for our judgemental asses freedom. I am mourning those who sacrifice their own dreams, goals, and hopes that others would know strength, love, peace, success…and happiness…I mourn for those who do not accept themselves while living in a world that doesn’t accept them either…

I am angry…angry that people we love die. Angry that I can’t answer my children’s questions regarding God these days with the fervor I once had. Angry that years have turned to minutes and time is no longer promised. Angry…that Mamie Till has yet to receive justice for her baby…her baby died that died in 1955…mad as fuck that these demons can admit to murder…that for years Carolyn Bryant Donham could lie…that they, the murderers of her beautiful little boy, our beautiful little boys… can all…could all…live lives fully…into their old ages…and make money off of the pain and suffering of Black families…that these murderers and their culpable offspring can make money off the pain and suffering of Black families still, because our pain…our death…our imprisonment…makes white folks money. We are living in a time, not so new, that Muslims are being blatantly targeted…that Black people are being blatantly targeted…that women’s rights are being blatantly stripped…so yeah, I’m mad as fuck…not cuz I happen to be all three…but because I refuse to be a victim….angry that our blood continues to flow in rivers, oceans, streets, and on coroners tables while every day new executive orders are being signed that take us further into the fall of America and first ladies wear Ralph Lauren suits while our mothers do crowd fundraising to bury our children.

I am not encouraged. I am not hopeful. I am changed. The platform of 1Hood Media, founded by my husband, charted for the last three years by me, and staffed by authentic artists and activists who have made a life’s commitment to seeing our people be free for at least a decade, has always been dedicated to the upliftment of our people and the training and development of like minded artists and activists. We are few, but we are about this life. Our media academy has always looked to challenge media perception and portrayals of our people and encouraged those involved to tell their own stories. Make no mistake about it, our mission and vision is solely about liberation. Our purpose is to unify, cultivate, and continue as the first line of artistic response to oppression. We are sincere, genuine, hard working people who are invested in this work of freedom, justice and equality for the people. We will continue to fight. We will continue challenge. We will continue to demand. We will continue to work. We will continue to love. We will win.

“Those who say it can’t be done are usually interrupted by others doing it.”
― James Baldwin