We get to be the heroes of our own stories.
We get to center ourselves in our own experiences.
We get to witness the repeated disregard for black lives and the demonization of black people and whisper to ourselves and each other that those lives matter. We get to say it when the evidence suggests the contrary. We get to affirm it with the breaths we keep taking and the dreams we keep chasing. We get to scream it, and cry it, and doubt it, and fall to our knees and pray for it.
Black Lives Matter.
Black Lives Matter?
Black Lives Matter!
Through voices that shake and crack and strengthen, we get to affirm ourselves.
In the same statement, in the same anguished cry, in the same powerful plea we get to ask for somebody to love us – and be the first person who volunteers.
We get to know that if no one else joins in this chorus, that our lone voice still composes the most beautiful song for it is one that has been forged in LOVE.
There is no need for approval, or permission, or debate. This is a deeply personal exercise in wholeness and we get to heal. We get to find joy and relief, we get to create community and belonging. While we may be questioned and triggered – while our intentions may be shouted down and bastardized into something unrecognizable, we get to KNOW;
To say that Black Lives Matter, is never an attack.
It is both a call for love, and love replying back.