We are Black
Nothing can contain us
We will spill out the edges
Out into forever.
This is the point. We are Black. Not Coloured, not Negro, not nigger. Black.
We affirm ourselves as Black. Black is beautiful. Black is magic. Black is the future
This is the point at which we change all there is.
Anyways, blackness can be suffocating.
Because whiteness is so traumatic, always traumatising.
This is racism.
This is blackness.
It’s hard because I want to always affirm blackness.
Blackness is life, it is everything
Blackness is the future, it gives me life.
Thinking beyond Blackness is like falling into treacle. Or quicksand. It is inescapable, the despair. There seems to be no escape from blackness. Should there be one?
How can one delete the category of race? It is necessary that one does so but then how does one conceive of oneself as black? It is important to know the history of my siblings who are black but it is important to destroy that thing which binds us together: race, racism, oppression. Blackness. But blackness needs to live on. As a radical formation, an ever self-annihilating, reflexive thing and practice, it must live on. Black history must live on. My future siblings need to know of the horror of race so as not to do it. But how can they remain my future siblings if race is the blood that binds us?
The question is how to change kinship and relationality.
Blackness consumes all. That seems to be the only answer. But how?
Image credit: Emmanuel Tegene