love and death : rebirth in grief

Today makes the second year anniversary of my father losing his battle to prostate cancer. In the two years he has been gone, I have been in a theoretical cocoon - a really deep depression marked by an aching quest to find myself again. Losing a parent is the most difficult thing I have ever experienced and not something you can explain to anyone who has not felt the wound.  When he passed, I had not seen him for ten years - he moved to Ghana and died there. I couldn't afford to go to the funeral. I won't ever get over my father being gone. But as promised by my ancestors,  his death became my rebirth.The realest thing someone told me after his passing was that it would become lonely after the funeral. Which became true. All of the immediate calls and check - ins stopped. People had to go on with their lives - after all -  it was not their father who had just died. The loneliness of grief pulls you into your self. I wanted to understand who I was now that my father was gone - a gaping hole eager to be filled again. I tried to fill it with loving men who triggered me alive - the toxicity of the relationships revealing all the things in me I needed to heal. All the ways my intricate relationship with my father molded me as a woman. I drank, I went out, I fought - I did everything but sit with my grief.  Until I began teaching and found something that poured into me.I suppose I am now in the acceptance stage of grief - though I still cannot believe the death. In this quasi-acceptance - I have been reflecting on why I started documenting Black definitions of love. I understand now that as a young twenty - something year old woman - finding outside definitions of love was easier than defining it for myself. I was twenty - five when I began Black Love Project and now at thirty - one I know what love looks and feels and acts like - which is me.For so long I have told the stories of others - avoiding centering myself because in truth I did not know who that was. My father's death forced me into finding and loving  myself enough to tell my own story. In this way - love and death are the same - both allowed my rebirth and awakening.I am excited to share all of the amazing things coming from Black Love Project and my newest venture with House of the Young, Ent.All my wins are for you daddy. me lo wo.

Love Is: Phoenix Eden

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HzK4Ze-oZkQ&t=41s

Sitting with Phoenix Eden was a very beautiful experience. She spoke candidly about love and the manner in which the strength of black women influenced and nurtured her. Phoenix lives life in duality, honoring both her masculine and feminine energy, never once denying or hiding either. Watch as she tells her life story and the interweaving of love of self and for others.

Christina

[wpvideo xmBmLJmy]Name: ChristinaAge: 29Hometown: Columbus, OhioLove Is: An intense appreciation for another, an unexplainable connection. It is multifaceted. Beautiful and ugly but powerful.Last month I attended a brunch hosted by Blavity during Essence Festival. It was an event full of young, black women who all were there to network and learn one another. It was there I met Christina and we started talking about Baby Boy and the kind of "ghetto" love that is often portrayed when talking about black love.Watch as Christina speaks earnestly of the loyalty that is the foundation of black love and so-called "ghetto" love.

Love Is: Dialogue with the African Diaspora

 Three years ago, I began collecting interviews of Black people, questioning their definition of love and discussing other issues related to their personal Black narrative. I started by asking friends (thanks to you BUGA), strangers and musicians, including Big Sant and 9th Wonder. Each interview, each personal narrative proved that Black is not a monolith, that we do perceive and feel and above all, we love.One of the goals of Black Love Project is to create a digital media library of Black history. I believe it is important that we are our own storytellers. As I grow and as Black Love Project grows, I think it's important that the way I document these stories evolves, as well.Love Is, is that evolution. Love Is: Dialogue with the African Diaspora is a docuseries of Black stories that I will collect along my travels and everyday life. I am in no way a filmmaker, but I do believe it is important the these narratives are told with the nuances and inflections of the people who are telling them. This series is meant to reveal the layers of the Diaspora, to educate and connect.Stay tuned for the first episode's release in August!  This series is also offered as a workshop and Black healing space. If you, your school or organization would like to participate, please contact me directly at: blackloveprjct@gmail.com

love poems: tilted crown

oneblack boys rap about their dick sizehow they'll bust this pussy wide openlike the .45 that killed his best friendskull bust wide openbrain matter on grounda mind is a terrible thing to wastehard to get out of concretehe can't sleep at nightvisions of it haunt himsees himself in the morguewhite sheets and coffinseveryday he prepares for battleso his dick becomes his gunand he don't shoot no blank shotssays he wants to put a baby in me'cause he don't think he'll last longwhere he's from, black boys don't last longand black girls lay on our backsspread our legs for these boysspread ourselves for these boyslet them slide inside of uswhile they try to find their way homethey think it makes them men when they comebackshotsso they write rap songs about how they'll kill this pussy'cause, there's a war in the streets, ya know?twohave you ever tried to love a man who thinks that death is chasing him?have him weep between your breasts and ask you to pray for him?i haveand it feels like the darkest night and the sweetest dawnto watch the phoenix right before he rises from the ashand we sit here and break our bones for youwe beat our chests in grief for the men you have becomelost boys of blacknesswho wander through the ruins of the kingdom that you foundtitled crown, how does it feel to have lost it all?titled crown, how does it feel to have lost it all?and he says to me,'bitch don't tell me 'bout no kingdomjust let me kill this pussy'cause there's a war in the streets, ya know?

love poems: amuzu (part one)

friends, neighbors, countrymenlend me your eardrumsthis is the story of my fathermay his life be longpart onemy father is a street boynever had shitgrew up in voodolandwill put a hex on youthirty-six siblings because his fatherliked to spread his seed. this is what farmers doremember, my father is the son of a farmerso he learned to spread his seed toowas seven when Ghana freed herselfblack star shines foreverread by candlelight to learn the white man's gamethey call it capitalismyou have to winand if you losethey will call it third worldbut we call it homestreet boy grewhis hustle did too. all he knows is hustlerode train to Liberiagot a little bit of moneygold chains to show he's got itall gold everything because the streetsneed to see him shinestreet boy is a motherless childmeets girl who is the ghost of his motherthis will be the only time he rememberswhat love looks likehe will love no otherexcept the streetscause you can't take the street out the boyno matter how well he learns to play the gamewill dodge rebel bulletsdon't give a damn about your street gangsyour bloods or your cripsall his friends died with their throats slithe will follow the trail of their blood to americathey will call him refugee because the land he came fromcracked open and tried to swallow him wholebut he came up from the cracksand the prayer of the street boy is,"G-d, don't ever let me go back"so he hustledbrought his girl to foreign landher belly swollen with childLady Liberty looked upon them and said"Give me your tired, your poor, your huddle masses,unless it is black, unless you call it African,there is no freedom here for you."

James Harrison: Untitled

[wpvideo yxqjg7oc] What I love most about working with the younger generation is being able to learn from their honest and earnest perspectives. Listen to James as he questions color politics and understanding history within the black community.Untitled:this is supposed to be our monthbut why do we have to celebrate our historyonce a month, once a year at one timeand that's only for the ones that noticei never wanted to come off offensivebut blacks need more than just one monthto be rememberedthis is just compensationfor the one twelfth of the yearbecause we were three fifths of a personnow is that fair?i never wanted to be national tragedyor neither a national treasuryi just want to be able to lookthrough the history books andsee what we did rightbecause February isn't justnational black history monthit's national minority montha month for confederates to say,"oops, we'll do better next time."the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juicethe darker the flesh the deeper the rootsbut how far do we date back when the blackwas forced to mix with the whiteand didn't make fifty shades of greybut the next generation of house slvesand now a hard history filled with cotton ballescovering rock spires not knowingthere's a deeper meaning behind what we saylike #lightskin #darkskin wars on social mediabut really mean #houseslave vs. #fieldslaveeven rap and hip-hop is corruptedwith images of black bodiescommitting all the bank robberiescause corporate America's scandalousthat's why they still can't handle usliquor straight to my livahignorance just might kill yahpoverty just might hit chahwhile walking home from the riverit's racismbecause we are constantly being force fed liesof how one shade of slave is better than the nextbecause after two-hundred years of overflowing hatredif we don't know our rootsthen why did we leave the plantation?