Love Notes to Us...
Sending revolutionary love on this Valentine's Day to those on the frontlines enduring struggle, inequality, and systemic racism. Black love is limitless in its expression.
It is February 14, 2023. Which means it is Valentine’s Day. Which for some may mean flowers and cards and stuffed animals and chocolates. Which for some may mean reflections of love lost or the evidence of loneliness or an irreparable tear where deep emotions once resided.
What is always difficult about Valentine’s Day as an annual marker that celebrates love or causes an individual to grieve the idea of love, is the same thing that makes any commercial holiday that denotes a specific feeling or mood difficult — and that is how those holidays are marketed for our consumption.
Christmas markets cheer and goodwill. The 4th of July markets patriotism. Easter markets hope and restoration. Halloween markets cosplaying as someone or something else, and fright. Valentine’s markets romantic love and partnership. The way any of us respond to how these signature calendar dates are sold to us is mostly based on two things: our personal belief systems, or where we are in our lives in relation to what these holidays [are supposed to]represent.
And out of all of the characteristics that are aligned with each of the major holidays each year, the promotion of romantic love amid the season of Valentine's is often a “sales pitch” that can be isolating to a segment of the population that has either not found “the one,” is not looking for a “soul mate,” or has experienced that type of love vanish either by choice or by fate.
As is the case with many societal observations, conversations around the prospect of finding romantic love, partnership, marriage, etc. are often discussed along racial/cultural lines. In the Black community, folks who look to be the epitome of “couple goals” are often placed on a pedestal as there is still an existing belief (or perhaps more fitting, trope) that Black folks finding romantic partnership within our own community is the equivalent of coming across a unicorn in an open field.
The data around Black marriage rates is concerning if you are Black and believe that the institution of marriage is the highest order of romantic partnership. But if you are someone that does not believe being legally bound to another person is necessary to exist in a relationship anchored in unconditional love, then the bleak statistics around Black marriages will not be a deterrent to you finding someone or staying with someone you can peacefully co-exist with.
My personal thoughts, however, on what “Black love” entails often go far beyond the confines of romantic partnership. In order for Black folks to survive (and prosper) throughout 400+ years of American life, love has had to manifest itself in various forms. Far beyond the narrow lens of intimate partner relationships.
And with that being said, I want to spend this Valentine’s Day writing love notes to Black America, as many times the hardest aspect of being treated in a subhuman manner is feeling like there ain’t no love in the heart of the city…or town…or region…or state…or country, for us or those our hearts hold near and dear. The following are love notes to us:
Sending love to the families and loved ones of the 32 detainees who have died in Texas’ Harris County Jail over the past 14 months, and have been offered a minimal explanation for this negligence. In a facility where over half of those incarcerated are Black, and over one-third are held in pre-trial status, the inexplicable death toll is relative to whose bodies are dying.
The most basic level of human decency would put an abrupt halt to these numbers steadily increasing.
Sending love to the Black students at East Bay Middle School in Clayton, California who were given cotton balls as a mockery of Black History Month, and to the 200 Black students of Hillcrest High in Alabama who walked out in protest of their Black History program not being allowed to mention anything that happened before the 1970s — not slavery, or the Black Panthers or the Civil Rights movement.
Thank you for raising your voices in dissent against educational institutions that seek to dehumanize or be dismissive of your history.
Sending love to the Black farmers who have led the charge in a class action lawsuit against the U.S. Department of Agriculture on the grounds of discrimination. Your advocacy paved a way for other minority farmers to file suit on account of being denied access to low-interest rate loans, loan servicing, grant programs and assistance.
After two decades of fighting for equity in the farming industry, you are still being robbed of the “fruits” of your labor. But you are not giving up on the economic justice you are more than deserving of.
Sending love to the Black residents of Jackson, Mississippi who are being subjected to oppressive legislative tactics at the hands of the state’s Republican-heavy house of representatives. After enduring years of systemic/environmental racism that exacerbated the city’s water crisis, Jackson’s 80 percent Black population is now having their voting rights further diminished by way of the creation of a separate, unelected court system, in addition to an expanded hyper-militarized police presence in their communities.
Y’all have fought the good fight for generations in the face of some of the most anti-Black governing rule the world has ever known. I hope you remember that evil still has a shorter bandwidth than the long arc of justice. No matter how much the ruling regime tries to convince you otherwise.
Love Notes to Us...
Frederick Douglass never knew his actual birthdate. His enslaver wouldn't tell him. But on the few occasiions when his mother could sneak away from the plantation where she was enslaved, and come to him at his plantation, she would hug him, and murmur, "my little valentine". Happy Birthday Frederick.