In a clear voice, I affirm and confirm that Blackness is beautiful. Blackness is bold. Blackness is brilliant. I say that loudly and proudly to you, even as I say that to myself. As a proud African American in general – and a God-fearing, tax-paying, law-abiding African American man in particular – the struggle is as real as it gets. BIPOCs are feared more than ever before, loathed more than ever before, criticized more than ever before, ostracized more than ever before, and demonized more than ever before.

Consider the insurmountable fact that there is no American history without the vast contributions based in and branching out from African American history. The United States of America would never, ever have become the economic behemoth it is and has been since its founding without the unpaid, forced labor inherent to the worst subjugation of one segment of God’s people in the entirety of human history. The unspeakably evil institution of slavery was so complete in its utter depravity that a significant fraction of the American people (read: White folks) find it far easier to [a] pretend that it never happened here at all or [b] gently acknowledge it did happen here with the nonsensical disclaimer that although unfortunate, slavery had the silver lining of somehow granting enslaved persons with some “marketable skills.” It was as if slaves were independent contractors with resumes who were free to promote themselves to different masters on different plantations. This premise is only semi-plausible to those individuals and/or groups with an average IQ smaller than their shoe size. Even as you’re reading this, there are U.S. Representatives and U.S. Senators and state senators throughout this country who stand ten toes down on the collective premise that no African American has ever done or said or sang or wrote or built anything anywhere that was worth more than a bucket of lukewarm spit. I presume that is why those very same maladjusted, elected officeholders are actively courting carpal tunnel syndrome as they feverishly write and/or type legislation prohibiting the proper teaching of Black history in schools ranging from elementary to post-secondary levels. I assume that is why those aforementioned so-called elected officials are bending over backward to author and approve legislation abolishing DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) offices at colleges, universities, corporations, and various institutions. Florida has done this already. So has Texas. In clear voice, too many powerful and wealthy White Americans have decided that the only way to make America great again is to usher in a new era – a second Reconstruction – in which African Americans are relegated to a permanent caste system fully intended to keep us poor, keep us uneducated, keep us ignorant, keep us uninformed about current events, keep us quiet, and keep us in a never-ending cycle of believing that anything White is right and that anything Black lacks. According to the would-be-powers-that-be, Black people are supposed to be too busy engaging in criminal activities or burning down our own communities or getting high/drunk/lit or hating on our own people to be paying any attention to burning American issues like voting rights, justice in all its various forms or pondering better lives for our children and our children’s children. In clear voice, we must be at our collective best: politically, economically, educationally, physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, socially, culturally, vocationally, and logistically.

What am I saying? I’m glad you asked.

Politically, I fully understand why Black people – especially Black women, the most essential voting bloc in all of American politics – historically and overwhelmingly support the Democratic Party. At the very least, the Democrats actively court our votes, hear our voices, and make legitimate attempts to address (some of) our concerns. Having said that, though, the Democratic Party needs to earn our votes. The Democrats cannot and should not ever reach a time or a place when and/or where it can be taken for granted that Black folks will vote their way no matter what. That would be an extremely dangerous precedent for Democrats, and it could easily lead to catastrophic results. I am all but convinced that the Democratic Party can – and should – do much more to do right by African Americans and the causes we care about because, frankly, without us, the Democratic Party is null and void. Without us, that iconic red, white, and blue donkey is dead. Meanwhile, I will give today’s Republican Party credit: at least they are honest from this standpoint: they don’t want us. They don’t respect us, they don’t love us, they don’t want to hear us, they don’t give a damn about our issues, they don’t see us, they don’t want to be us, and they don’t even want to be near us. They don’t want our votes, although they know they need them to be viable. Black sisters and brothers: please stop being contrarians. It’s not cute or cool to intentionally vote for people who would much rather see you in a jail cell, chilling at the morgue, or laying low at a nearby cemetery than at a polling booth. The vast majority of my heroes would actually stop and shake my hand if I encountered them at Starbucks or at an airport. Black men and Black women, if the vast majority of your heroes would call 9-1-1 if you got too close to them in proximity; or would be much more likely to call you the n-word to your face than to call you by your first name, maybe you should not wear their t-shirts in public. Maybe you should not think about paying $400 plus taxes plus shipping costs for a hideous pair of spray-painted glitter-gold shoes. You will probably never actually be shipped to your house because despite your paying for them upfront, the third-party vendor hasn’t actually made the shoes yet. Wake up. Stop playing. Stakes are too high for you to roll with 45 one more time because, in case you haven’t noticed, 45 ain’t rolling with you or us. Ever. He ain’t invited to our cookout. Not never, as they say, Down South.

Economically, we, as relevant people, can no longer afford to subscribe to the laughably preposterous notion that Black people cannot patronize Black businesses beyond restaurants and churches. The whole truth is this: anything a well-trained White person can do, a well-trained Black person can do just as well, regardless of the industry or the location. If Beyonce can record and release an original album that currently tops the Country chart, you can open an account at a Black-owned bank. You can take your clothes to a Black-owned cleaner. You can propagate your news from a Black-owned newspaper/media site. In a clear voice, I say unto you: “Know thyself.” Whether you believe it was Heraclitus, Pythagoras, or Socrates who originally coined that phrase, be like an ancient Greek philosopher: try doing business with a Black-owned business. You’ll like it.

Educationally, it’s high time we, as Black parents, prioritize academics over athletics. That’s right, I said it. Black parents need to show up at every conceivable opportunity to advocate for our children in school settings. At Parent-Teacher conferences, at PTO meetings, and at School Board meetings. We need to make sure that our children see and know that we are present at those aforementioned meetings, advocating for them on a regular basis. I realize that parents are insanely busy with work and church and whatever extracurricular events our kids participate in, but it is absolutely essential that we make the time to ensure that our children (and their peers) know Black history because there is an excellent chance that they will not be taught that subject matter at school. Most non-White teachers do not know our history – and even the well-intentioned White teachers ready, willing, and able to teach Black history comprehensively may not be allowed to according to their administrators, their school district, local laws, state legislation, or social norms. It’s unreasonable to expect any educator – Black, White, both, or neither – to willingly risk his or her livelihood to teach Black students their own history. Therefore, we must be ready, willing, and able to do it ourselves. Being a child of a parent who was a lifelong educator paid off handsomely for me. My mother made sure that my siblings and I knew Black history from an early age. Now, I am fully capable of offering that gift of knowledge to my young son and my young daughter. Without question, they will know their Black history. They will be someday well aware that they are the descendants of kings and queens. In a clear voice, I urge you to make the same commitment to your own children. Those who do not know their own history have been robbed of something precious beyond measure.

Physically, we have to take better care of ourselves as a people. Period. We need to understand that rest/sleep is a crucial component of good health and basic well-being. We should consider regular exercise as a means of self-preservation, individually and collectively. There’s nothing wrong with consuming alcohol so long as it’s done in moderation. Since Black people are especially sensitive to hypertension, diabetes, and sickle cell anemia, it’s imperative that we closely monitor our intake of salt and sugar. We need to drink a lot more water on a daily basis. We should eliminate as much drama and/or stress from our lives as we can manage. We all know that cigarette smoking is deadly for us – and if you can stop, you should stop. In a clear voice, I gently but firmly remind you of a saying that is pretty common down South, where I am from: “If you don’t want to be here (alive), you probably won’t be here for long.” Those are words to live by. Or not.

Regarding our health mentally and emotionally, I have said this before, and it bears repeating: it is my fervent wish that every living African American man, woman, and child would have access to mental health counseling. Black excellence comes at a profound cost. You’re kidding yourself if you claim that it doesn’t bother you whenever theft prevention specialists blatantly follow you from aisle to aisle inside an upscale retail store. You’re in denial if you state that being the one and only person of color at your institution of higher learning is no big deal. You’re wrong if you pretend not to notice that you are being watched by various people at your workplace all day, very day: checking out your hair, your clothing, your accessories, your jewelry, the tidiness of your office/workspace, the quality of your work, even your punctuality. Over time, that immense pressure can – and will – weigh on you. It’s great to have friends or family members to share those burdens with, but there’s nothing like working with a highly trained professional who can support you without coddling you; and encourage you without condescending to you. I have done counseling a couple of times in my adult life; and honesty compels me to report to you that it was of great personal benefit to and for me. In a clear voice, I humbly ask you to seek professional help if and when you need it – and never allow anyone to shame you for doing so. Such a person is surely in more need of a mental health counselor that you are. Facts.

Spiritually, we as Black folks need to quickly embrace the concept that as it relates to the Black Church, we really have lost the plot of the story. The Church is a spiritual hospital. It is – and was always intended to be – a shelter from the countless storms of life. Church is supposed to be where you come for Christian education and formation. It’s supposed to be someplace you can dance, sing, shout, listen, laugh, cry, and give all praises to the Lord with zero fear of being laughed at, made fun of, or otherwise mocked. Church is supposed to be a holy place akin to the lyrics of the chorus of the Theme from the TV comedy series “Cheers”: Sometimes you want to go/Where everybody knows your name/And they’re always glad you came/You want to be where you can see/Our troubles are all the same/You want to be where everybody knows your name.  Somewhere along the way, however, Church became all about whose Choir was the biggest and the best, whose Pastor was the most famous, or whose sanctuary was the most impressive. The ships – fellowship, stewardship, scholarship, friendship, and discipleship – were replaced by indifference, intolerance, indecision, infighting, and inequity. If you have ever pondered the question of why there has been a measurable and noticeable decline in attendance in the mainline Christian faith traditions over the past two generations, I have an answer for you. In my not-so-humble opinion, the Church, over the past 30 to 40 years, has become just like every other place. People catch hell at work. People catch hell within society. Some people catch hell at home. The one place where people steadfastly refuse to catch hell is at their local house of worship. They won’t stand for that, and they won’t stand for their families being around that. Therefore, people are and have been voting with their feet. They are voicing their displeasure at this situation by removing themselves and their families from the equation. There is always a growing market segment for real Church, real Christian fellowship, a great word being preached to the congregants to help them navigate their trials, tribulations, and temptations. In a clear voice, I encourage you by plainly saying that if you happen to already be worshipping at a real Church, stay there. Be faithful, stay active, give generously, and help it achieve sustainable growth. If you aren’t being well-fed spiritually where you currently attend Church, seek out another church home that does offer you the spiritual nourishment you crave.

Socially, BIPOCs are capable of love and a sense of trust that has to be seen and/or felt to be believed. We love our family members, our friends or colleagues, our fellow congregants, our home, our fraternities and sororities, our civil organizations, our neighborhoods, our cities/towns, our God, our government, our country, and this planet. In this postmodern era, there is no shortage of people in the shadows who will hate on you for your optimism, your patriotism, and/or your humanitarianism. In a clear voice, I applaud your positivity and creativity. Hold on to those traits with all your might. The world needs them. I need them. This planet is a miracle, wonderfully and fearfully created by our Heavenly Father. There is beauty in abundance all around us. If you seek it, you will definitely find it. Whenever you find love, share it. Spread it.

Culturally, Black people, of course, are not a monolithic group. Individually, we are all unique with our own superpowers. Our own God-given gifts. Our own dreams and fears, triumphs and tragedies, peaks and valleys. For all of our accomplishments – and they are countless – we can do more. We must do more. Black excellence cannot be solely a catchphrase that rolls nicely from our lips. Black excellence must be a creed, a calling, a lifestyle. Black excellence must be readily apparent in our stride, our fit, our words, our thoughts, our actions, and our interactions with everyone we encounter everywhere. I’m not suggesting that we master the art of code-switching. I’m not proposing that we become conservative in our physical appearance. What I long to see is that whatever we do, however, we do it, we do it well. Organically. Wholly. Immaculately. I want to see our light shine in our poetry, our literature, our music, our lyrical content, our movies and television shows, our entertainment, our vocations, our educational endeavors, and our artistic expressions. We are the envy of the world. Our culture and our language make this world spin on its axis. But sometimes, you would be hard-pressed to readily find Black people who would agree with that sentiment.

Vocationally, I’d love to see Black people do a little more bragging in real time. Some of the greatest teachers alive are Black. Some of the greatest dancers who ever danced were Black. Some of the greatest singers who ever touched a microphone are Black. Some of the best doctors working are Black. I could go on, but you get the picture. Society paints an entirely different canvas. Society would have you believe that there are few Black doctors, even fewer Black dancers, and maybe one or two Black singers of note. Although now filled with outstanding quarterbacks of color, I am old enough to remember when the common conception throughout the National Football League in the 1970s and 1980s was when Black athletes – regardless of their size or speed or toughness – were widely considered not intelligent enough to play that position. Up to that time, countless quarterbacks coming out of college were forced to play other positions like wide receiver, tight end, or cornerback just to have a chance to make a team in the NFL. So, in a clear voice, I say to Black priests, go on with your bad self. To Black school administrators, rock on. To Black attorneys and judges, do your thing. Our young people are watching. They cannot be what they cannot see. Achieve so that they can both believe and conceive. By the way, as you elevate yourself up the proverbial ladder, be sure to freely offer your time, talent, and treasure to help elevate someone else. Give back… by giving back.

Logistically, there is some legitimate housecleaning we need to be ever mindful of. How can we individually or collectively claim that Black lives matter when Black-on-Black crime is as prevalent as it is in certain American cities? The loss of Black lives – young, old, or in-between – during any given weekend in Chicago is as tragic as it seems inevitable. What if a stray bullet fired from a gun during a shootout between rival gangs there flies through a window and kills a small, innocent Black child sleeping in his or her own bed who, if they had been guided and protected and nurtured, would have later in life been the individual who discovered the scientific breakthrough that would have cured cancer for all of mankind for all time? In that scenario, that would-be genius’ life was lost, yes, but think for a moment about the hundreds of thousands or possibly millions of lives that will someday be lost because that genius did not live to fulfill his or her divine purpose. All life is precious. All life should be appreciated as a gift from God for the people of God. In a clear voice, many Black people in America need to re-learn how to love themselves so that they can love other people more fully and more actually. In a clear voice, I beseech you to live in accordance with the spark of Jesus Christ dwelling within you so you can seek to serve the spark of Jesus Christ that dwells in every other living human being.

In conclusion, I affirm and confirm that Blackness is beautiful, bold, and brilliant. I say that loudly and proudly to you, even as I say that to myself.

My friends, our Blackness is a superpower. Our Blackness can be considered supernatural because it is foundational to not only our spirits but also to our very souls. Blackness is superb. Our superpower requires that we carry ourselves as superlative beings – with the inherent power to make our corners of God’s creation feel bigger, better, and brighter than even we could imagine. Claim your superpower. Use it. Remember the enduring resonance of your superpower in all its glory. And show everyone, everywhere, precisely who you are.