the privilege of loving a black man.
a tribute to MLK.
The memory of Ahmaud Arbery is etched deeply in my mind.
It served as just one painful reminder of how much progress we still need to make as a society. It was a stark illustration of the harsh reality that there are individuals in this world who have lost their humanity to such an extent that young men cannot go for a simple jog in the morning without fear of never returning home.
At that time, I was in the early stages of falling in love with a man who would soon become my anchor, my home. We were, and continue to be, navigating a world that often labels us as different, unconventional. Many would argue that we have chosen a path with more resistance and we love against the grain.
It has come with hefty doses of not only blatant side glances and snide remarks, but also the silent, subtle forms of racism that can be felt through a single look.
Our love ignited within me a fierce desire to protect the sacredness of our relationship, a primal instinct to safeguard the essence of us.
It skyrocketed into keeping our love offline.
Moving in silence.
Not allowing the world access to the purest pieces of my heart.
And while I don’t believe the world deserves a front row seat— I’m learning that there’s a difference between privacy and secrecy.
I will always hold us close to the vest— mostly because he quite literally healed me piece by piece and there aren’t words for the gravity of a love that deep.
But it’s vital that our son knows how proud I am to love his daddy.
That I know, embody, and radiate the true privilege it is to love a black man.
To raise a black baby.
To steward a soul that is the result of trusting our love more than our fear.
This journey is not just about us; it is about doing the work of the Kingdom, of bringing about a world where love transcends barriers and constructs.
It was reflected in our vows when I promised before God and everyone we love to never stop learning. To honor, nurture, and celebrate every part of who my husband is- the incredible, strong, intelligent black man I am so proud to love. It is an honor to follow his lead with humility and devotion as we raise our babies- ensuring they see the beauty and strength in both sides of their heritage.
I know that raising a black son in America holds different responsibility AND I know it’s an honor.
It is a conviction etched into my DNA that the noise of the world is unable to access.
And it has me wondering what MLK would think of our world today.
His dream feels further away than it should.
And I don’t have any answers.
I’m learning everyday.
I’m surrendering my ego.
Humbling the parts of me that want to understand and accepting that I never fully can.
Holding the fear while simultaneously not allowing it to keep us complacent.
It’s a dance. One that is beautiful, excruciating, complex, and divine. Often all at the same time.
And yet as I nestle into the gentle strength my husband radiates— I’m reminded what a gift it is to be “his person”.
A love story that will long outlive us.
So here’s to loving and living “against the grain”.
Only the best legacies do.
Because we may not be able to change the world, but we can ensure that MLK’s dream is lived out everyday in our home and trust the ripple effects of that devotion.
from our interracial family to yours…
xx
J
