Remembering Tears

Good Evening Substack!🌻

I’ve been hanging out in these writing streets for a few months now - mostly reading, commenting on and restacking great pieces. Trying to get the feel of how this all works. I never did social media so this was somewhat daunting for me.

Then I found Blackstack and a whole Black ass community! I was like woah…this is some powerful ish going on here! Brilliant, thoughtful and encouraging writers. One of the first writers I connected with was the fearless and vulnerable Jacquie Verbal . She is the Badass sistah building the Blackstack community in such a time as this. The second person I connected with was Saint Trey W. who asked in his chat for folks to introduce themselves - creating community. His writing always moves my spirit. And there are SO many incredible writers in this neighborhood of Substack. It's mind blowing. It's beautiful and it's Black.

What's happening at Blackstack right now is so critical to preserving our history, stories, art, artifacts - everything.

I’ll tell you the reason why I am finally posting - something.

I woke up in the middle of the night last night, for some reason, thinking about my very first visit to the “Blacksonian” - NMAAHC - in Washington DC. Yes, that one. I was remembering how it felt the first time I made my way through all the levels (I've been many times) in 2017. I remembered the emotions I felt as I moved through each floor. There were artifacts and exhibits that literally took my breath away at times.

When you get to the top floor, you can sit at this long curving bench and watch an amazing video on this wide panorama screen. As I sat and watched the video, tears started streaming down my face. I couldn't put into words how full I felt at that moment. I was so overwhelmed at witnessing the brutality our ancestors survived and how they fought. How they persisted and persevered, knowing there would be something better for future generations. For US. I saw the sheer brilliance and creativity of our people. Black people have invented every damn thing! Even if we don't get credit for the inventions. WE are the blueprint.

As I wiped away my tears, I looked around at other Black people sitting on the bench near me. They were crying too! We looked at each other and said out loud: ”Finally. Finally.”

And last night, as I lay in bed wide awake, I broke down crying - soaking my pillow case. It’s all so, so heavy what we are currently living through. The push to whitewash, lie about and erase our history - again.

I remembered the emotions I felt sitting in the museum and I thought how powerful our stories are. How resilient and amazing we are. How we’ve impacted the culture and progress that has happened in this country.

So I’m encouraging all of us to keep writing and documenting our stories, our achievements and all of our art forms. And not just in the digital space. Our ancestors kept physical receipts. And we must do that again.

I decided to call my Substack space A Water Woman's Flow because I’m a Pisces who feels things - everything - deeply. Spirit woke me in the wee hours - when the veil is thin - to have me remember my tears. Feelings and emotions flow through me - like water. And water is powerful and shapeshifts. And oh yes, there’s many depths.

So to the Blackstack community, I say “Heyyy” and stay vigilant. Keep using the pen as our power.

I have piece sitting - waiting for me to get the nerve to publish. I’ll get there.

But somehow tonight - after waiting all day - I found the courage to post this. Something in me pushed this out.

Oh, and please, become a member to the Blacksonian. You can do it for as little as $25. Then go online and sign up for the free tickets and plan your visit. Don't miss what's there - in the way it was intended.

You, too, will be moved. I guarantee it.

More to come…as the Spirit flows.🌻✨