The Revolution Is At A Gala

An Ode To Black Men

I love Black men. My father is a Black man, my grandfather was a Black man, god willing if I have children I might have one that identifies as a Black boy. However, to fully show the depths of my love for Black men it is also my duty to hold Black men accountable for the ways in which they fall short championing and loving Black Women.

I was raised at the intersection of being a Zimbabwean immigrant to the United States and wanting so badly to assimilate to Black American culture, while also remaining steadfast in my African Identity. It’s such an odd feeling to realize the way I ride for and champion Black Men is not the same way they ride for and champion me. Yet I believe when you love someone you hold them accountable when they fuck up.

I often seek solace in the summer. A time where I generally find my stride and come alive. This summer, however, was a different story. The confluence of a summer spent in quarantine and the ongoing reminder that folks still seek comfort in the pain of Black folks was a hard pill to swallow. As a Black woman, the murders of Breonna Taylor and Oluwatoyin “Toyin” Salau struck me. Breonna Taylor, an EMT, and aspiring nurse, was murdered as she laid asleep in her bed. Oluwatoyin, a budding activist leading protests in Tallahassee, Florida to combat police brutality, Was taken at the hands of a Black man whom she entrusted to help her find safety. A gut-wrenching reminder that no matter where we turn as Black women our safety is not guaranteed. Seemingly as quickly as their names were made hashtags on social media was as quickly as their names seemed to be erased from the collective consciousness.

The Rally Cry for Black women should begin while we are alive. For our humanity as Black women is intrinsic to #BLM. Namely, given that folks who birth children are the givers of life. Not only do we deserve to be protected but we also deserve to be loved. #SayHerName has reluctantly become a calling card. As a collective we find it easy to immortalize the Black Women we’ve lost but what about those of us who are still living? I am reminded of Megan Thee Stallion and the disbelief she was met with after disclosing the abuse she faced at the hands of Torey Lanez. How she had to be seen physically crying in order to get a buy-in from the majority of Black Men. The trauma she went through after being shot by an intimate partner was ignored led to the added trauma of being dehumanized.

I am stricken with fear when I am confronted with the violence Black women are subjected to. Black Women are 40% more likely to experience domestic violence in their lifetime. 53.8% of Black women have experienced psychological abuse and 2.5% of Black Women are likely to be murdered by men.

We must examine the role White Supremacy has played in the degradation of Black women. This internalized belief that white people are superior to those of other races and thus should dominate them. White supremacy is the water we all swim in and none of us are exempt. White supremacy breeds a harmful patriarchy and an obsession with power and domination over those viewed as “weaker”. The social “ladder”, as Sonya Renee Taylor so aptly deems it, places Black Men on a rung above Black Women. As folks who maintain Black identity, Black Men still hold the privilege of having cis male identity. An identity that enables you to earn .87 cents to the dollar a white man earns, when Black Women only earn .61 cents to the dollar a white man earns. As Black men, you must make a concerted effort to assess how you (yes you, Black person) exist within these systems and in turn perpetuate the system when you refuse to decolonize your own mind.

BLACK MEN BUILD 2020