On the eve of 2017, I was surrounded by people I love deeply and who love me in return. I was with my partner, with friends both old and new, in a house somewhere in some hills, men in the kitchen cooking some good-ass food, everyone else sipping wine, laughing, reflecting, enjoying the presence of a deep, genuine, formidable love. On the eve of 2017, I felt something good.
I am in love, but that night I was also in love, we all were, as love was encompassing the air we breathed, how we embraced, how we spoke, the intention behind what we said, our two step, in every moment and motion. We didn’t find love in the house in the stony hills, my friends and I, we made it, the fruits of a conversation in a living room on a random New York Night a few months ago.
After a dark year, this is what I needed.
During the two days in an abundance of love, I reflected, not too much on the past year, but what it was I wanted in this new year. With the obvious things aside (especially the impending presidency of he-who-we-must-resist), there was an ease to looking forward. Maybe it was the company, but peering into the future did not pain me as much as I thought it would.
Looking ahead, I saw myself accepting my evolutions, accepting who I am becoming. This year marks a quarter of a century of my existence in this body, this life, this highly specific genetic sequence that has given me my hair, my eyes, my hands, my bodily functions and malfunctions, and to an extent, the formation of my soul. I’m still growing, constantly changing, becoming more myself, and that means being comfortable in my skin, being fearless in my exploration into things that I once thought were static, like my sexuality.
I saw myself embracing every atom of me, no matter how terrifying it might be, how beautiful, how ugly, or however weak I am, or even how immeasurably powerful I can be.
I saw petty me essentially stay the same, but not alone. The vernacular petty exists on a plane of resistance, a clever and complexly dense form of self defense, defiance, humor, and wit. Yet, I also saw my tea sipping accompanied by my engaging with those who the tea is dedicated to. Truth be told, I rested in 2016 when it came to “educating” people I disagreed with, or better said, individuals who uphold white supremacy, patriarchy, colonialism, and other systems of oppression and violence. This year, in whatever form I choose to, I saw myself speaking to those on other shores, shores of hot sand and iron tools.
I saw myself leaving behind the treasures that had become relics, objects from my past that I could no longer carry with me. I saw myself flying again, the weight dropped by hands who know better, hands who are held by others.
I saw myself celebrating, laughing, loving, smiling, crying, fighting, being fully human.
It was this vision that gave me a peace as we danced to “Say My Name” by Destiny’s Child as midnight passed and the champagne flowed the wishes upon grapes were made.
But most importantly, it was now only what I saw, but what I could hear, not only in the year to come, but in the years, the decades, the centuries. It was the roar of battle, the roar of revolution, the roar of resistance, the roar of victory. And all I intend to do will be with a roar, a roar that will not silence no matter what the night or the dawn brings, especially when that roar is that of love.
To 2017, and to every year thereafter, till the end of time, with love.
PS. Back to blogging every week. Wish me luck.