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 poems: gold dust

my body is Africamen want to discover their rootsthrough my watersso they tell me,'girl, i'll make you weep for me.''girl, i'll make you wet for me.'they want to colonize my bodybut my flesh is my ownmy soul belongs to memy mouth is full of diamondsuse your hands to dig into my earthyour hands were meant to dig into my earthyou will fight to say you belong to mewear me on fingers and necks and teethcannot lick lips without tasting mei make these niggas remember they're kings(i make these boys remember they're kings)i burn incense at night when i praydance myself cleanbreasts and thighs tremble like thunderthat calls out to me in lucid dreamsmy hair grows wild and freelike the heart of memy people have seen some crazy shitLiberia's refugeesso pardon me and my iniquitiesit seems i have inherited the family geneof women who carry wounds that are heavier than weso i call myself strong and not breakingbut my God am i breakingi am crumblingthis is how gold dust is mademy life has been a graveyardmy family tree a weeping willowblack menfathers and brothers and lovers of mesit beneath these leavestake cover from my lightshade themselves from my needsmy hips bend and curve like river streamthey all want to drink from memy cup runneth over, they are quenchedi bring lifei have given them lifethey are birthed of me

Let's Discuss: On Buju Banton and Demanding the Love You Deserve

Song: Wanna Be LovedArtist: Buju BantonAlbum: 'Til ShilohReleased: July 18, 1995. Loose Cannon Records, Island RecordsWriter(s): Browne, Haldane Way. Kelly, Dave. Lindo, Hopeton St. Aubin.  Myrie, Mark Anthony[audio mp3="https://blackloveproject.files.wordpress.com/2015/10/buju-banton-wanna-be-loved.mp3"][/audio]

I wanna be loved, not for who you think I am, not what you want me to be, could you love me for me?Because I am a woman who feels things deeply, a lot of my love stories begin with a feeling. An immense feeling of connection with another. It usually starts in the pit of my stomach and travels through my body, a warm heat that forces itself out of my mouth in the form of the words, "I love you." My most recent connection ended almost as quickly as it began and  was comprised of two lost people who had an idea of what love is, but never tasted nor witnessed it develop. People we love come into our lives as lessons or chances at growth, so I thank him for allowing me to understand a more pragmatic approach when it comes to matters of the heart. I thank him for teaching me to follow both head and heart.  Through this, I am examining how I need to be loved. For a very long time, I accepted the love given to me. There was always the hesitancy to demand more affection or communication for fear of pushing them away. I am also learning to not let resentment build until my needs fall out of my mouth in hurt masked as anger.I tend to attract creative men and with that comes the burden of becoming their muse.  They often do not take the time to know the real me, but rather the parts of me that enhance their artistic endeavors. Allowing myself to become a muse overshadowed my ability to know myself independently and outside of who I was in relation to men. My first loves were creative men, so I've had to do some slight work to untangle myself from the experience of loving men who are more in love with the idea of you than the real you.As women, we are often taught to keep our emotions stifled so as to not run men away; do not nag, do not complain. But staying silent while you are being loved incorrectly is damaging to yourself.  As I grow in my womanhood, I understand that it is important to demand the love you need. If a person cannot learn to love you the way you need, then they are not the lover meant for you. It is better to be by yourself, you are the only person who can love yourself wholly.  There is nothing lonelier than being in a relationship with someone who does not rise to the occasion to love you. There is nothing lonelier than to love a selfish person. I Buju Banton need it desperately.'Til Shiloh is perhaps one of the greatest albums to exist. What strikes me the most about the album is the writing and raw delivery of Buju Banton's poetry. Buju's writing is simple and it is through this simplicity that he is able to get across very important messages of knowing oneself in order to survive. When we discuss matters of love, the topic of surviving love often arises.   Wanna Be Loved is something of a guideline on self respect while on a quest for true companionship.  The visual for the song follows a young dread who walks through various scenes where he is rejected and finally comes across a place where he is met with acceptance. The song and visual are telling us that in order to find your tribe, to find the people with whom you belong, you must first love and know yourself. We all want to belong and it is a beautiful thing to be accepted, but this song enforces the necessity of belonging to those who love you for all that you are. If they are not able to, let them be. Buju writes, "Woman, if it means contention, I'd rather be alone." and this is perhaps the greatest lesson I've taken from the song.  So often, we barter ourselves for what people choose to give us and this is what we call love. We would rather be with someone who has their foot half in, because it is better than being alone; but this is only true if we are not comfortable with our own company. Buju's writing says a lot about the power in knowing oneself and how that aides us in successfully loving others. Show me you care upfront and boldly, don't shun my feelings. Learning to be comfortable with yourself means to be open with your flaws and your better traits. Forgiving yourself for the things you believe to be negative and working to improve those things, meanwhile maintaining humility in your positive traits. This means understanding yourself holistically and how your strengths and weakness relate in matters of love and relationships. Loving yourself means understanding how you need to be loved, to receive the love you deserve and shun the love that does not deserve you. Wanna Be Loved reads as a checklist of things Buju needs in order to feel a complete love, which led me to consider the things I need in companionship.  I need a partner who will be open to my emotions, because I have many. I need a partner who is spiritual and has a deep connection to God.  I need a partner who is able to teach me things that I've yet to discover and who is open to learning from me. Communication, loyalty, honesty and tenderness; these are the things I need in order to be a better partner to someone. These are the things that I've often forfeited for the sake of maintaining some kind of connection and things that are no longer negotiable at the sake of my emotional health and self-respect. Let's Discuss: How do you want to be loved and how do you request that love from your partner?

Marcel "Fable the Poet" Price

Name: Marcel "Fable the Poet" PriceHometown: Lansing, Michigan residing in Grand Rapids, Michigan.Age: 26Age You First Fell in Love: 21Love Is: A best friendship with the opposite sex. And that means it can be a mother that's a best friend, that's the opposite sex. It could be a sister, it could be a significant other. It's somebody that you trust and adore.I was blessed to meet Fable the Poet during his feature at The Eclectic Truth Open Mic and Poetry Slam, hosted by Baton Rouge's The Poetry Alliance (every Tuesday, 8pm, 427 Laurel Street).  What struck me the most about Fable's writing was his ability to convey raw emotion while performing each piece. He speaks candidly about mental health and the importance of recognizing mental health issues and finding a way to heal. I'm very thankful Fable spoke with me during his visit to Louisiana.You can find more of his work, here.Monique: How old were you the first time you fell in love?Fable: (huffs and laughs) I mean the first time I thought I was in love, maybe 15-16, but when I really fell in love, I was probably like 21.M: And what was the difference [in the type of love] between 15 and 21?F: Being in high school and losing your virginity and thinking that sex has something to do with love. And then actually understanding what it is to fall for a person and having them fall for you.M: So then, what is love to you?F: Love is a best friendship with the opposite sex. And that means it can be a mother that's the best friend, that's the opposite sex. It could be a sister, it could be a significant other. It's somebody that you trust and adore.M: As far as being from Michigan, I've never been and the only thing I know about the state is Detroit, which has this kind of Phoenix from the Ashes story and it's waiting to rise from those ashes. How would you say being from Michigan has molded your life, how you self-identify, being biracial and what does that mean in the Michigan landscape?F: What I always tell people is that I feel like being from Michigan makes you patient. Just because of the way our seasons work, it seems like you go through a long period of cold; where you're waiting to go out, where you're waiting to socialize, where you're waiting to thaw and come back to life, which is actually what it is. I would definitely say it makes you patient.When you say what it means to be biracial, I think it means just to be an individual, just another person. There's really nothing special about it. I would say owning your identity is key to being biracial. If you're like me and grew up in an urban environment, you're always "too dark or too light" for different groups and different people, so it's really just learning yourself and learning your identity and owning it.M: In light of all of these murders and protests, do you feel like your voice has a place in conversations of Black Lives Matter and race issues?F: I feel that any person of color is almost always going to come from the same place. Some people look at me and expect me to be more sentimental or expect me to be more lenient on their opinion because I am mixed and they say, "Oh well, you're going to understand this side of it.", and it's like no, people are still dying unjustly. There's no difference. If you're a person of color, you're a target. I've probably had a gun pulled on me five or six times in my life, growing up back home where we're from and I've had to deal with the law, unfortunately more than times than I would like just through stupid experiences. The police are scary and I think that if you're a person of color, you understand that, for sure. I don't think there is a difference of opinion.M: What inspired you to begin to create?F: I really write for healing. And I write for the youth that I work with because my words help them get through situations they're going through and help them realize they're not alone. Like I said, I grew up [in the] innercity and I had an English teacher who saw I was failing out of school and she said, "I'll make a deal with you; you don't have to do another assignment for the rest of the year if you just turn in a piece of creative writing every single day. It could be a short story, it could be a true story, it could be something you started and just bs'd, I just want to see you write." I was like, "Alright, for sure." And I did, like, a lot of stories, my mom gave me this little book of fables; making animals talk as humans, traditional fables and literature. And I just gave her a lot of stories. She ended up sending me to a creative writing camp at the University of Michigan, The Ann Arbor Slam Team at the time was putting on and they really nurtured me as a writer and got me to where I am. It was the only thing that stayed consistent in my life.M: In terms of writing as healing, what would you say is the most important thing for people to understand in regards to mental health and persons of color? It's definitely something we're often not given the space to talk about. There are so many other burdens that we seem to have to face; where mourning or grief is kind of looked at as a weakness in terms of surviving and living your day to day.F: I feel like you pretty much hit the nail on the head. People of color grow up and they're stereotypically plagued with so many instances; like if you grow up in an urban environment there's a lot of homes that don't have both parents, there's poverty, there's the loss of jobs and the inability to get a job. I feel that a lot of people, especially the older generation, mental illness is just something that's so taboo. They're so used to being like "Hey, pull up your bootstraps and keeping fighting, keep pushing.", that it's something a lot of people don't own and don't recognize. But I feel like it's something you have to recognize because it is a very real thing. And I talk about it pretty crass as someone who was diagnosed with it and somebody that has found the ability to cope with it through writing. Until you learn a way to cope, until you find this medical cocktail that's right for you, until you do whatever it is to make yourself a better person or a more functioning person, that's the issue within itself. People really need to find what works for them.

Love Poems: Mango

[embed]https://soundcloud.com/blackloveprjct/mango[/embed]i wrote this while i ate a mango with my right handi licked the juices that ran down my armmy mouth was full of yellow fruitand i imagined this is how your skin would tasteif i brushed my lips against ithow sweet it isi bite deeper into the flesh,peel the skin with my teeththis is how my mother taught meto eat a mango. this is how her mothertaught her to eat a mango. this is howLiberia taught us to eat a mango.to the bone. sitting down. close to earth.did you know that i see the weather in your eyes?we are in drought, my loveyou have not cried in yearsi want to know the things you've seenshow me your bonestell me real Richmond talesblack kinghow strange it must beto live in a world that does not bow at your feetthey have made a slave of youthey have made a slave of youthey have made a slave of you, my godthey have changed your name from man to niggaand sometimes you've answeredyour world is littered with black bodies searchingsearching for something better than thissearching for a way outsearching for a place to call homethis land of the free wants nothing to do with your freedomit wants you to die a thousand deaths in one dayit wants your sweat and blood and silenceit is the thing this country is made ofblack silence. black sufferance.white houses built by black hands upon red bonesthey have made a slave of youand every day is anotherchance at liberationbaby, get freefind that kingdom that rests inside your headand in the darkest of nightsas the world turns on your shouldersknow that my love is with youit is heavy and aching and patientto the bone. for the soul. close to God.this is how my mother taught me to love a man.this is how her mother taught her to love a man.this is how our bloodlines taught us to love a man. 

Love Poems: For the Women We Don't March For

[embed]https://soundcloud.com/blackloveprjct/love-poems-for-the-women-we-dont-march-for[/embed]sisteri call your name three timesto let the ancestors know they should make room for youyou are coming homeyou have become another picturethat will be added to our altars of griefwe will pray to you and ask what this life is forblack woman, you gave birth to this worldand is it not the African way to carry our children on our backs?how do you not break with so much weight?how much more of your blood will they ask for?how much of your pain will they ignore?your body has been both mother and muleblack men hold their stiffness from across the streetand call you bitch.they have not yet forgiven themselves for being angry with their motherswho could not make their fathers stayyou will love them anyway. you will fight for them anyway.white men salivate at the way your body curvesthey will call you exotic and ask where you are fromthey want to know if black pussy is as sweet as brown sugarthe rolling stones told them sothey will not invite you home to meet their parentsthey cannot bear that shamewhite women will ask to touch your hairpet youthey will call themselves feministsfighting for the right to show their bodiesthen will hire your mother to scrub their floors and raise their childrenoh my sisterthis life is not an easy onethis thing you created is not an easy oneblessed melaninno one weeps for you, they shed no tearsthe earth returns unto itself a thousand times in one dayat night when you weep in heavy solitudeand in the morning when your flowers open themselves to another day

Love Poems: For Akuvi

[embed]https://soundcloud.com/blackloveprjct/for-akuvi[/embed]my mothermy sweet, warm mother.her dark skin glows with years of wisdom and sorrowmy sweet, foreign motherMonrovia's girlmy strong motherthick bodied but gentlelong fingers crooked and softly withered by labor and timei want to weep while i lay in her lapwe will not always have these momentsshe will return to Godshe has never belonged to mebut i have always been hersshe has taught me to work until my fingers bleedto work through a bleeding heartto pray to God when the dawn comesand in the stillness of nights when God speaksshe bleeds for meher heart breaks with my ownshe’s seen it before in her own lightshe knows the way to healingi gladly rest my head on her breaststhose nourishing moundsi listen to her heart beat to find my way