Black: a word I’ve known for so long, it’s like a brother to me. The definition of Black is the darkest color, the absorption of light, but Black is so much more than this. Black is being jealous when others talk about where they come from, where their families emigrated from. It’s feeling angry that you can’t track your heritage past the bondage, always wondering where you came from.  Black is history teaching you that your ancestors were barbaric, when in actuality they were kings and queens building great empires and fantastic structures that to some extent still exist today. Black is great people doing important things for the betterment and future of the community only to be erased by history because the government is scared of people banding together to provide education, free food, and clothes to the unfortunate, not just their own. (Those same groups were attacked by the government, causing their eventual downfall.) Black is having very few heroes, so we look up to those perceived as “villains.” Everywhere you look there’s someone being praised who looks nothing like you, yet all of those being bashed resemble you most. Black is important names like Huey Newton, Marcus Garvey, Booker T. Washington, Nat Turner, and Stokely Carmichael being erased just because they stood for something different–humanizing instead of ostracizing the community.

Black is having emotional scars that no one can heal, seeing so much from a young age and not being able to realize the gravity of it until you’re older. Late night thoughts about the past, reminiscing on every event that makes no sense: Why you always stood out. Why, for some reason, you were treated differently–given a different set of expectations from your peers–finally making sense after all of these years. The missing piece of the puzzle is Black. Black is putting in double the work to get half the recognition because you’re Black. It is consistently having your achievements undermined in sports – you’re one of the fastest; they say it’s because you’re Black. (A stereotype with a positive connotation has a negative effect on the mindset of young adolescents whose achievements aren’t respected.) Black is working yourself to the bone in classes and being a model student; it’s trying to prove yourself by living the philosophy of Booker T. Washington, who said, “No race can prosper till it learns that there is as much dignity in tilling a field as in writing a poem” (“Booker T. Washington-Quotes”).  Black is one mistake setting not just yourself but the community back, as we are not seen as individuals but as a whole group.  Black is being associated with different stereotypes, none of them being an educator or a scholar. Black is feeling lost as there are no teachers or administration that look like you in school. You wander through the halls looking for some familiarity to end up finding nothing besides a few custodians. Black is feeling different because you’re at a predominantly white school and not being able to relate to your peers because you’re Black. Black is being told you’re not Black or not Black enough because you don’t act a certain way. It is constantly being stripped of your identity because you aren’t from an impoverished area, don’t speak in slang, or constantly being told you’re not black because you aren’t a walking stereotype. Black is searching for a bigger picture and wondering why all this pain and challenge was given to your community, searching for an answer to why misfortune is a continuous theme. Black is acting “gangster” as it is easier to put on a fake face than embrace your own. Black is having a chain as it’s easier to uphold the weight of a mineral rather than your own insecurities. 

Black is having a family that resembles a shattered vase glued back together. You’re lucky if you have two parents in the pictures. You probably have one cousin who didn’t go to college because they had a child in high school and another little cousin asking what their dad did and why he’s not in their life. Black is helping your cousin with homework because their parents aren’t there to help and their grandparents are too old to understand how education has “progressed” over the past 50 years. Black is education being a luxury for the younger generation as your grandparents couldn’t go to college like everyone else. The realization that your grandparents went to school in a heavily segregated time, who had to risk their lives for a decent education by integrating colleges.  Black is being proud of your grandma because she helped integrate her college – she is the reason you’ll become a 3rd generation college student. Black is being proud of your lineage – your great uncle marched with Martin Luther King  Jr. to help fight for equality for your people. Black is coming from a big family experiencing multiple stories every time you get together.  Black is like fire, able to grow from the smallest embers into the vast flames capable of lighting up vast areas. 

Black is a community of misdirected anger; it is hurting each other because we can’t take out the pain on the ones who hurt us. It is constant fighting that slowly breaks each other down because that is easier than building a wall strong enough to stand against generational pain. Black is going from suspension to indictment, fists to guns, bruises to wounds, knocking someone out to ending their life. Black is killing each other because we can’t kill the pain of our parents, grandparents, and ancestors or the brutality that weighs us down. Black is the mindset that there’s no escape. Black is a young kid thinking he is tough walking around streets, doing runs, trying to act gangster so people will treat him with an ounce of respect. Black is the same young kid caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Black is the wrong place turning out to be grown men who can’t settle their problems with words so they take out guns, their little argument turning into a shootout. Black is the young kid running and praying he doesn’t get hit. Black is those prayers not being answered. Black is a mother crying that her baby died, a brother angry that his brother is gone, a man broken as he accidentally took a kid’s life. Black is the cycle repeating because nothing soothes the emotional scars better than revenge, leading to more children dying unnecessary deaths, having futures and dreams cut short for revenge.  Black is the brother finding his brother’s killer and ending his life. Black is the brother getting arrested as a kid with a little bit of facial hair and coming out as a man with grays, dead lost eyes, and a cold heart because the system doesn’t correct: it breaks us down even more.

(was same par as above) Black is protecting athletes as they are the only ones who have the ability to make it out, granting the community a better future as their success and their willingness to give back is the reason why they were protected. Black is living in pain in a dark place or living in disarray in a bright place.

Black is being perceived as a dangerous criminal, being followed in stores as they judge you like a book and don’t look past the cover. Driving through Virginia in a nice car going slower than the surrounding cars and still getting pulled over, too young to realize why you got pulled over and no one else did, too young to realize that you were targeted because you looked out of place–a black family in a nice car just isn’t possible in the officer’s eyes.    

Black is helping one another, looking out for each other as we are the only ones who  grasp what we’re going through. When you’re far from home with your all-white boy scout troop at an all-white camp and home seems a lot farther away, the only comforting feeling is when an old man who spent the peak of his life going through the struggles of the 50’s & 60’s reaches out to you–you are not alone. Black is growing up in a predominantly white area; your community is far but close at the same time. Black builds friendships because it’s such an uncommon thing in this place. When you’re playing sports or walking around giving that special nod, you let the other members of your community know: I see you. 

Black is creating a culture from the ground up through rhythm and rhymes. Losing all connection you once had to where your ancestors came from, so you build one through music.  Black is your enslaved ancestors singing to pass on messages, communicate their faith. It is church songs and jazz: the universal language of people who looked like you.  It is hip-hop, now 51 years old in 2024.  For every meaningless song, there are ten more that are true. Through hip-hop to preach the new found culture and issues as music is the bridge that fully connects us all. 

Black is having an identity true to our own, one expressed through more than 100 thousand strands of  hair. Before we were limited, only able to show our curls in the form of an afro, as all else was deemed unprofessional.  Now our hair has become an expression of our individuality–we can twist, lock, and braid our hair a thousand different ways. Black is walking through a city or a family reunion and seeing various styles. Black is the ability to bond over our hair as we talk in the salons and barber shops for hours as we get our new look. It is sharing with those who look like us and feeling proud. 

Black is everything above and more.  Black is perseverance and it is pride. Above all, Black is growth, the ability to overcome adversity. It is the ability, at the end of the day to be proud of our identity, where we came from, and what made us who we are today and will be in the future.