People of pallor virtue signaling and trying desperately to be viewed as “allies” during celebrations of non-white cultures and heritages like Black History Month:

[Image description: a concrete wall plastered with non-artistic graffiti. Sprayed on the wall in black letters is an attempt at writing “Be the change.” The wall is actually tagged with the words “Be the chage.”]

[Image description: a concrete wall plastered with non-artistic graffiti. Sprayed on the wall in black letters is an attempt at writing “Be the change.” The wall is actually tagged with the words “Be the chage.”]

A Black History Month Message

Image description: a picture of Laurence Fishburne in his role as Ike Turner from the Tina Turner biopic, "What's Love Got to Do With It." He is side-eyeing the viewer with a "try me" expression emblazoned across his face.

Hey, unmelanated people. This is Pharoah. You know, that guy whose social media posts you report all the time for “hate speech.” Yep - that guy. I'm glad I could jog your memory!

Anyhoo, as a living, breathing, Black person, I wanted to take a moment on this, the first day of Black History Month, during the shortest month of the year, to give y'all a little educational reminder that as people of pallor, your role this month is to listen, learn, unlearn, and implement that learning into every aspect of your life. It is not your job to virtue signal, appropriate "out of appreciation for Black culture," or post anything on any Black person's page trying to teach them something about Black history. It is not your responsibility to offer hot takes on Black folx's business. I don't want to hear about your "transcendent" experience seeing Beyonce on tour. I don't want to hear about the segregation documentary you watched on Netflix. Not one Black person wants to hear or see any of this from you for the next 29 days.

Your role for the next 29 days is, to paraphrase The Rock, know your role, and shut your mouth.

Period.

No debate.

No sidebars or questions.

Try Jesus. Don't try me. I will make sure everyone sees you as an example of how to avoid conducting yourself during the month of February.

Keep your mouth shut and your mind open to learning and unlearning all the nonsense, stereotypes, and vitriol you've been fed about Black people.

Go ahead. Give it a try. I guarantee it'll change your life. Or at least create one less anti-Black moment for your Black colleagues, "friends," and neighbors to endure.

You should be practicing this every damn day anyway, but I see y'all constantly doing the opposite, so...yeah.

And I betta not see nan one of y'all tryin' to sing "Lift Ev'ry Voice and Sing."

Probably gonna be soundin' like Taylor Swift singin' Earth, Wind, and Fire.

[Image description: a picture of Laurence Fishburne in his role as Ike Turner from the Tina Turner biopic, "What's Love Got to Do With It." He is side-eyeing the viewer with a "try me" expression emblazoned across his face.]

Image description: a quartet of images depicting a woman of pallor looking confused and contemplative. Around the woman's head is a series of algebraic and geometric equations floating in the ether. The images are accompanied by the caption, "People who quoted and misquoted the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., on Monday, doing the math on how many days after MLK Day they have to wait before going back to being openly oppressive, anti-Black, and racist."

Some of y'all couldn't even make it 24 hours before y'all devolved back to your regular forms.

[Image description: a quartet of images depicting a woman of pallor looking confused and contemplative. Around the woman's head is a series of algebraic and geometric equations floating in the ether. The images are accompanied by the caption, "People who quoted and misquoted the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., on Monday, doing the math on how many days after MLK Day they have to wait before going back to being openly oppressive, anti-Black, and racist."]

On Trayvon, Sandra, and Existing While Black

[Image description: pictures of Sandra Bland and Trayvon Martin. Both are smiling at the camera as their photographs are taken, which means they are smiling at the viewer.]

TW: police violence, murder, anti-Blackness.

This past Sunday, Trayvon Martin should've been celebrating his 28th birthday surrounded by friends and family.

Sandra Bland should be celebrating her 36th birthday today, surrounded by friends and family.

But they're not. They're gone because of whiteness, of white people, of a white society that has no issue with seeing Black people as a persistent danger for no reason outside of intolerance and hatred.

Blackness in the United States is simultaneously living in mourning and celebration. It's observing 28 scheduled days of Black achievement and pain in white spaces in front of white audiences looking to feel good about themselves while commodifying our existence as novelty and curiosity until we are deemed dangerous and expendable. Sometimes that expendability leads to reinforcing cycles of systemic and generational poverty.

Other times it comes in the form of trauma and death.

It is far too often the latter.

No matter what they tell you or what you've read, our deaths are never justifiable, especially considering how white domestic terrorists are handled in this country. Still, our harm and deaths are often unwarranted yet blamed on us as something we brought on ourselves. And yet we're expected to get up every day, put on a smile, and live with the fact that today could be the day we don't make it back home from a trip to the corner store or after getting pulled over for no damn reason. Somehow we face all of this and contribute to society and our communities in ways that help everyone, including white people, because that's who we are deep down inside. That's how we were raised, the descendants of enslaved people on unceded land. We were raised by people who, sadly enough, passed on the generational trauma they're carrying in their bodies and all of the "rules" that come with it. They didn't know they were; they were trying to protect the next generation. We've unconsciously embodied much of what was passed to us because we want what our parents, their parents, and their grandparent's parents wanted: to live without harm and without harming others.

To dream.

To live and love and achieve great things.

To not be murdered by white violence.

This is what it looks like to live while Black in the United States.

Trayvon should be 28.

Sandra should be 36.

But they aren't.

This Week's Opening Thought: February 6, 2023

This week’s opening thought: a lot of generational and societal trauma comes with being Black in the United States. There’s no way it couldn’t. But the existence of this trauma does not mean that being Black is a joyless experience.

Far from it.

Please believe that Black communities live joyfully and engage in growth, love, and creativity despite the constant trauma outside our windows. Black joy is a daily occurrence, not a one-off or a unicorn. It always has been, and it always will be.

If you’re non-Black and you’re reading this (especially if you’re white or benefit significantly from your connections to white privilege and white supremacy), don’t allow the white supremacist-driven narrative that existing while Black is unhappiness and pain to permeate how you view Black joy. Instead, take a moment to understand and digest the amount of Black joy you witness in the music, art, culture, fashion, innovation, and discovery you get to consume every day. That joy and expression, regardless of peril, are what being Black truly is. Then take a moment to respect that joy, not as something unbreakable (the unbreakable myth is bullsh--) but as something vital to the health of our minds, bodies, and souls. View Black joy as a tool of Black survival and mindfulness in a world that views us as less than human. And acknowledge that when this white world hurts us, it can also harm our joy but never make that joy go away. Black communities find ways to keep those joy tanks full because we know how integral it is to breaking the chains of generational trauma. It’s not unbreakable; it’s like water.

Recognize that Black joy is Black history, a history crafted with hope and love despite the hatred that led to our enslavement on unceded land and the vestiges of that hatred that we are still subjected to every day. Quit looking at Black history as Black misery. It can exist as both pain and triumph, heaviness and joy.

Also, please take a moment to digest that the byproducts of Black joy we share with the world are beautiful things you’re getting to witness and engage with that impact your life daily. It’s not for you to commodify or exploit. It is for you to see the strength and glory of a people who could’ve easily succumbed to white supremacy yet are still here, thriving and contributing to a world that views our existence as dangerous with love and joy. Pay your respects accordingly.

And to my Black folx reading this: I wish you all the joy, not just during this short-ass month they “gave” us but the other 337 days of the year too. You deserve joy. Embrace your joy. Connect or re-connect with your joy. Let your joy fly freely. I am sending all the love and support I can from my soul to you and yours.