This Is Not A Think Piece: Of Black Homes & Meccas & Cosmos


Black bodies, from dark white to caramel, from high yellow to low black and brown and undefined envelope me as I sit here, watching, breathing, at that place we call “The Mecca.” It’s funny, or ironic, that such a reflexively christian people would refer to their college of choice–Howard–as one of the holiest sites of Islam. That is a black thing. We do what we wish with words, histories, theirstories, ourstories; they all bend and break and become ours. We had long decided that blackness is not the absence of whiteness, but the presence of all things–stewing ever so rhythmically–in the bowels of the cosmos. Here, at “The Mecca,” I find myself enveloped in blackness and remember that my words matter, if not my life, always.

Taino, Egbo, Kosa, Eritrean, Belizean, French, Latinx, southern, Dominican, Russian, Amerikkkan and Saudi. A people of many tongues, children of the Sun, the earthly mark of the Cosmos, beauty undefined, bodies beyond death, black folks. We are everywhere. Here. Now. Tomorrow. We, our selves, extend beyond birthplaces and bullets. We defy death and deities. We swallow pride and presumptions. We withstand injustice and ill-will. We, are more than our selves, we are each other, an earthly astroprojection of the Cosmic realm. Black. BlaQueer. AfroLatinx. Extending through and beyond and despite and around and to fuck and to displace and with no regard for constructions gender, race, space, place and time, lest we waste too much of our magic in these little prisons of (white) men and other preoccupations of cisheteropatriachal, capitalist powers.

Some day we will go home, back to where we belong, back to that place we cannot articulate because human tongues have no memory of truth, of blissful vulnerability, of home where hatred is not as a common and expected as the morning dew, or mourning as routine as breathing, or lynching as common as air. Perhaps, home is where the heart is, or where it goes, when the body is no longer welcome and one’s nation is where hate is birthed, domiciled and groomed.

 

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