For the love of absolutes we miss the subtleties of moments and the tempestuous rhythm of grace. For the love of absolutes arrests us, and we are bound by it like a rigid system.
Today has been hard. My body aches and my heart is broken. I lost a friend, and I'm complicit in his death because I didn't reach for him when he fell. He worked tirelessly to be seen as valuable only to fall and be forgotten. Capitalism embeds messages of someone's productivity being equal to the value they hold, and when we fail to be productive, our humanity is remitted and we are slowly looked upon as burdens without value. Our lights dimmed, we become ancestors. It is hard to love someone who's vulnerability piques yours and whose struggle reminds you of just how fragile we all are and symbolizes the hurt of trauma caused by generational black pain, HIV stigma, the shame of addiction and the ruthlessness of non-profits that will dismiss you when you've fallen. We must do the work to build with each other even when we see how our hearts yearn for completeness.
Who loves us when we're messy? I'm messy, I don't always perform "the straight and narrow," and sometimes, I break from being loving, for I am a creature of emotions and hurt. I have made the mistake of throwing people away. I've loved them less and have stopped reaching for them. This hasn't fortified me; it has left deep holes in my spirit. What happens when we envision that relationships can be restored and love is without condition? It is hard to love and be hurt at the same time. We endure through the pain levied against us by white supremacy but can't take the shade of our community. We clock in every day to make a dollar at institutions that bury us as quickly as they use our narratives to thrive, but we have no patience for each other?
We pretend that we can make mess go away when we won't look at it. It won't! We must unpack it and look at it the same way we look at the brilliance we hold. Year after year, we lose people we forgot to reach for. They succumb to death, and it's a sobering reminder to hold people tighter even if it takes work. We can find a way to hold both truths about ourselves. We are bold and broken and deserve space to heal. Ashe.