be optimistic

a (hopeful) restful musing

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“as long as you keep your head to the sky”

Sounds of Blackness

I write this after archiving the original post that I intended for today. Late on Saturday, I sat listening to music and contemplating all of the pain that is pulsing through the world. The death, the misunderstandings, the cruelty. I can’t hide from it. And I reflected on the intense amount of bad news (my dear brother-friend Sam’s wife has cancer…it’s been devastating) and stress I’ve been under in the past week. (Not least of which being the first of my doctoral exams start next weekend.) Overwhelm began to sink into every part of my body and soul. And as I considered the vast amount of *all this* a song from my childhood floated to my heart like a pleasing fragrance or a hug from that person you love most. A line from the song rolled through my mind and I began to cry:

“as long as you keep your head to the sky”

In the early 90s, I, along with many other Black children, grew up with the anthem “Optimistic” blaring through car radios, boom boxes (yes boom boxes), and television shows. The empowering lyrics were the foundation to my formation as a little Black boy. There was and is something so deeply soul nourishing about all Black folks in African print clothing singing lyrics of optimism into the very DNA of a generation. Black folks are magical in the ways that we can create beauty in devastating circumstances. Our music. Our art. Our love tells a story of optimism that doesn’t make sense to others. I have no idea when I first heard it. It feels like the melodies of this song have been with me always. As a child, then as a young man, I would listen to this song as I cried through grief, heartbreak, and loss. It lifted my head. It helped me see what the old folks would tell me “It can’t rain forever baby.” To this very day, I tear up when the song is played. I can’t explain it, but It somehow feels like a portal is opened directly to the green pastures that Psalm 23 talks about. In that pasture, I am my best, vulnerable, Black self. No masking. No code switching. No capitalism or anti-Blackness kicking my back in.

Many moons ago I was in an interview and I was asked about how I do theology. I described myself as a theologian that is likened unto a seamstress. (I can’t sew anything on this planet, but stick with the imagery chile) I weave strands of stories, experiences, curiosities, and encounters with God to make garments of safety for myself and others. This imagery is powerful to me because it animates the way that I write, and the way that I orient myself to the world. Optimism can be a liability in a world bent towards cruelty. And. I know that every single person that reads this musing has joys and pains that nobody can ever fully quantify. I know that so many are trying there very best. And I write from that place today, hoping that these words, and the song (listen to it :) are able to inject some beauty into your day. Keep your head to the sky beautiful ones. What if it works out beloved?

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