By: Tracey Roberts
Changing Our Narrative
I recently attended a weekend music festival. It was filled with tons of live music, games, and carnival rides. Thousands of young kids, ages ranged from the very young to early twenties. The Indie and Hip Hop music was definitely worth the walking between stages to see each act. I averaged fifteen miles for the two days, not a small feat.
Attending this festival gave me an opportunity to do one of the things I love to do and that is people watch. As an African-American, we always notice in events such as this, how many of us are in attendance. From what I could gather, there weren’t many in comparison to all the other races that were at the festival. Tickets are extremely expensive, and had I not won my pair, I wouldn’t have been there myself.
I’m glad I was there because it was a unique experience.
When I did see a speckle of us, one or two, here and there, there wasn’t a head shake, like our silent hello, you know that nod we do.
If I closed my eyes and just listened to their voices as they interacted with the ones they were with, we’ve assimilated so much where we are almost nonexistent. We have to do this in order to survive or is it more of how we are evolving now?
These black kids are articulate, free loving, uninhibited beings that we have raised in a time that it is okay to be who you are and say what you please, live where you want and love who you choose. We raised them to stand up for those that can’t, question authority, albeit respectfully, as long as it’s reciprocated, and have no judgement. I saw our young people confident, creative, and loving. Healthy African-American parents are raising pretty dope kids in this generation. I am excited about the future.
On the flip-side, however, we have also raised killers, young murderers, that have taken life away so freely. We raised them too. We raised the young mothers and fathers, the parents of these killers, and we are all responsible for what is happening in our own communities. We can no longer blame everyone else for the demise of black lives, it’s time for us to look at ourselves with love instead of hate. If you have love in your heart, there should be no way that you can aim a trigger and kill at will.
From Chicago to Atlanta, Louisville, Kentucky, to NY and Los Angeles, young black men are killing each other with no remorse in their hearts, where did the love go? Love starts at home. Love starts with us. We need to love ourselves first and love our babies and raise them to be strong, physically and mentally, and intellectually.
This is not a new concept. We loved ourselves through some of the most horrible atrocities known to man and we are still here.
We have been trained to hate ourselves to the point we can’t extend love to one another and that is a disgrace to the human race. We are a dynamic people, descendants of kings and queens. Let us not forget.
I’m tired of the narrative that how can you be mad at the police for shooting you when you gun down each other at a rate higher than any other race. The narrative for us is quite complex with many facets making it very complicated. It’s the system, it’s economics, it’s brainwashing and they have all played a role in destroying what’s at the core, love for one another.
It’s not simping or weak it’s quite the opposite. It is strength and courageous to honor one another through love.
Love is God’s gift to us. We leave it unopened. Afraid to be vulnerable and trusting of others. So we look at each other judgmentally and cautious, allowing fear to replace love and all the animosities and for what, the demise of our people?
How do you change the narrative?
It starts with you. A simple hello, a gesture to let your sisters and brothers know you see them, respect them, and love them.
Don’t be afraid. Practice with one person, then add more. Trust yourselves. Love your babies. Spend time with them. Eliminate the distractions that prevent you from nurturing the ones that need our love the most. Love them so they don’t need to look for it in places that lead them down paths of no return, little boys and girls lost from us forever. The streets would gladly take them.
To the kids that I saw at the festival, who are free in mind and spirit, keep living your truths, and keep loving yourself and hopefully through your lead, we learn to love and live like you do.
