Black Love
“Black love is Black wealth and they’ll
probably talk about my hard childhood
and never understand that
all the while I was quite happy”
— Nikki Giovanni, Nikki-Rosa
Did you know that George Washington Carver discovered hundreds of uses for peanuts, or that Frederick Douglass was a prominent figure in the abolitionist movement, or that Jackie Robinson was the first Black person to play in Major League baseball? Probably. I think these and many, many other figures in Black history, American history, are incredibly important, their contributions meaningful and so very significant. I can't help but wonder, though, if sharing a list of facts, as has been the Black History month custom since time immemorial, or keeping our reveries focused on a select few actually celebrates the beauty and richness of a culture, its depths and complexities.
“Black love is Black wealth and they’ll
probably talk about my hard childhood
and never understand that
all the while I was quite happy”
Black heart by Bryan Garces
Did you know that George Washington Carver discovered hundreds of uses for peanuts, or that Frederick Douglass was a prominent figure in the abolitionist movement, or that Jackie Robinson was the first Black person to play in Major League baseball? Probably. I think these and many, many other figures in Black history, American history, are incredibly important, their contributions meaningful and so very significant. I can't help but wonder, though, if sharing a list of facts, as has been the Black History month custom since time immemorial, or keeping our reveries focused on a select few actually celebrates the beauty and richness of a culture, its depths and complexities.
I suppose I'm also interested, perhaps more interested, in whether their families broke out into full harmony when singing even "Happy Birthday" to a loved one, like mine does? Was weekly church service an event around which all other activities orbited, like it was in my family - where one's best clothes were worn and complimentary dinners were made and served on white tablecloths with special glassware, where the eldest man said prayer among held hands and bowed heads before anyone sat down to eat and share stories? Could their grandmothers wield an otherworldly kind of confidence and create safety and belonging with pies and cakes, and did they carry culture and pass it down in the most subtle ways to their female heirs, like mine could and did? Where did their ever present dignity come from?
I wish Black history museums curated stories of freedom alongside their many stories of slavery. I wish they talked about choirs and music and dance, about the style of Black pastors. I wish they discussed how hip-hop rose from a musical and cultural legacy of self-expression, and even joy, within hardship. I wish they celebrated textured hair and what its evolution may say about the state of an entire people; or how Black girl magic might very well be a thing - woven together, in no small part, from the character-building patience and fortitude required for routine hair care, and the conversation and community-building that happens all the while. I wish a visit would yield a deeper understanding of how language and culture have morphed and evolved, what lovely things remain, and what things have changed as a result of the diaspora, because I’d sincerely like to know more.
Mostly I'd like the evidence to confirm, to bring to life and living color, something I know to be true: Love never dies. It remains. It endures. It will find a way. There is so much beauty, so much richness in Black culture, so much to be celebrated. I invite us all to go a little deeper - to highlight the threads that are unique, to find the ones that are shared, and to celebrate them all as part of a wondrous human tapestry.
Love in all things,
April Eileen
Because It's My WOK!
Once upon a time, in a moment of extra-real mom frazzle, I found my then toddler sitting in the middle of our breakfast nook, surrounded by ginormous puddles of water and overturned cups and spoons sprawled all over the table and floor. “What are you doing?!?” I asked in a slightly raised (okay, very raised) voice. I wasn’t especially interested in the answer as much as in making a point - she was doing something that needed to stop immediately. “Why are you making such a big mess with all this water?” I asked in horror and desperation. “Because it’s my WOK (toddler speak for ‘work’)!” she retorted, understanding on some level that using the word “work” was the only way I would grasp the gravity of what she was doing.
“Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm. ”
Stuffies at a party by Ron Lach
Once upon a time, in a moment of extra-real mom frazzle, I found my then toddler sitting in the middle of our breakfast nook, surrounded by ginormous puddles of water and overturned cups and spoons sprawled all over the table and floor. “What are you doing?!?” I asked in a slightly raised (okay, very raised) voice. I wasn’t especially interested in the answer as much as in making a point - she was doing something that needed to stop immediately. “Why are you making such a big mess with all this water?” I asked in horror and desperation. “Because it’s my WOK (toddler speak for ‘work’)!” she retorted, understanding on some level that using the word “work” was the only way I would grasp the gravity of what she was doing.
I understood on some level. After all, if Life and Lovely Things could have existed in 1986, my 5-year old self would certainly have tried to build it. My daughter Loved to use her hands. She would transfer pretty much anything from one container to another - dirt, beads, flour, water, you name it. It was her absolute jam, part of her divine contribution to the world, a showcasing of her natural gifts. I put down a tarp, and let her continue.
I believe children are tiny sages walking among us, an important part of the human community, tasked with helping us remember who we are. As I study my own, I’m not sure work and play were ever meant to be compartmentalized things. Years and a million iterations of “you can’t play until your work is done” have created a separation between work and play where I don’t think one naturally exists. Not only that, we’ve collectively elevated work, though the word seems to carry a heavy energy for those of us who have had our bodies used for years on behalf of production - a sense that something is going to be hard and unsatisfying, draining us of our life force. Children haven’t yet learned to separate, to take on the drudgery of what we adults refer to as “work,” and when they’re very small, they haven’t yet downgraded play. So when my daughter used the word, she was simply trying to convey that what she was doing was important (that much she had grasped), meaningful enough to require her attention. What I called play, she called work, and the difference was a matter of importance.
Aren’t we in the best position to define what is important to us, where we will place our attention, how we will use our gifts? Isn't it time we start to unravel the play/work dichotomy, which isn’t a dichotomy at all? Is play frivolous and inconsequential? Is work serious and critical? Are joy and gravity, pleasure and practicality, mutually exclusive ideas? If you’ve ever watched a child playing, it seems not. They are in a state of flow - there is joy, certainly, and also a focus and presence, the likes of which would make any supervisor swoon. They are quite serious about it. Serious enough to call it “work.” Serious enough to cry insistently, “but we’re playing,” when it’s time to run errands or clean something, as though adults should just get it. Serious enough to get lost in time and space. Now clearly dishes need to be washed, floors swept, and bills paid. But I believe it is possible to start to blur the lines between work and play, such that life itself becomes a more joyful experience - to play meaningfully, to get a little more light-hearted about work (“just a spoonful of sugar,” folks), and to release our expectations about which is which.
Play blocks by Suzy Hazelwood
But first, we must choose. We must decide, and keep deciding, what is meaningful enough to merit our precious attention - our creativity, focus, care, talent, and joy. In that way, we get about the work of creating our lives in the same way we created tea parties, played dress-up, and built towers as children. And what could be more meaningful than that?
Love in all things,
April Eileen
P.S. BTW, the toddler is now 10 and still Loves to use her hands. A true maker, she’s crafting fairy houses, designing clothes, and building forts. She’s also quite enterprising. The kid will make a dollar. I’m excited to see how her story unfolds (and mine :-)).
Love Inspired, Love Expressed
We’re women bringing our dreams to life and that is epic! Simply being on this path is a gift unto itself but sometimes we can get snagged along the way.
“If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with success unexpected in common hours.”
You got this by Binti Malu
We’re women bringing our dreams to life and that is epic! Simply being on this path is a gift unto itself but sometimes we can get snagged along the way. We second-guess or want miraculous signs from the heavens assuring us our ideas will work. We are distracted by thousands of little life things and get disconnected from our vision. We “don’t have time” though we still manage to binge watch an entire season of [insert delightful Netflix series here]. We don't want to fail but more than that, we don't want people to know we failed. We don’t want to endure the side-eyes, the judgment, the criticism, the condescending advice, the gossip…the rejection. So while our blogs, social media pages, or networking endeavors go neglected, we perpetually map out 3 year plans, endlessly update websites, and question whether ‘vision’ or ‘goals’ is a more compelling word for that last line of copy. In short, we pretty much ensure the results we’re trying to avoid.
This is actually normal. I really wish someone had told me that as it might have helped me live with a bit less shame and a bit more grace. As children, rejection could have earned us, at the very least, a frown from the person feeding us and, once upon a time in our biological history, it could have gotten us killed. We can be afraid and move forward anyway. Certainly, we can and should do the internal work to help us move through our fears sustainably; AND we can temper our fear with Love all along the way. It is that focus on Love that will take us on a path of confronting and moving through fears anyway.
This is a path of devotion and commitment. Commitment…eeek! I get it. Before you run, let me just share a few thoughts. First, I have learned commitment in service to Love - to desire, to joy, to something worthwhile and meaningful to us - is legit. It’s not as heavy in that light and shifts the way we feel about it. Second, I prefer to think of commitment not just as an isolated choice, but as a state of being. We become committed as we choose to act in little ways again and again. So don’t worry about making a grandiose declaration that seals your fate forever more. Just deepen in the doing. Finally, commitment is a serious antidote to that fear of rejection thing. Ever notice when you're committed to something, you make mistakes with it ALL THE TIME? You had a kid and while you've become fairly adept at keeping said kid alive, everything short of that is chaos. You bought a house and fight squirrels every year as they dig holes in your yard looking for nut stashes. You told your partner, in a moment of misdirected honesty, you didn't like a particular gift and we all know how that turned out. You're rejected, look like an idiot, and face failure daily…and you're right back at it tomorrow.
While I don’t want any of us to look like idiots as we bring our creations into the world (lol), Love-led commitment is magic and I so want magic for us. I want us to be energized by desire and joy to choose worthy goals and to produce impeccable work and all the good that can come from the full expression of our talents, abilities, gifts, and interests. I want us to be inspired and to learn in community. I want us to show up as creators in Love, as much for the mundane tasks as for the big wins because it matters. It matters. You matter.
Love in all things,
April Eileen