I cannot pull any Shaku dance moves to save my life,
But BasketMouth's new song has been doing all sorts of magic to my feet lately.
There is something about the catchy Afro beats and defiant poker faces,
which speak deeply to my internal struggles of blackness.
Excuse my African.
Without sugar coating, I do believe that being a black person is tough.
Irrespective of descent, there is a depth of struggles that we don't talk about and can't even begin to understand.
Sometimes i wonder that if i were given the choice and insight,
Would i voluntarily ever return as a black man?
I posed the question to my Irish friend recently.
A simple question that is devoid of political correctness,
But the answer often lays bare the truth about blackness.
He thought long and hard and admitted that it is complicated.
Living and working outside of Homeland has taught me to deeply understand the histories and depths of being a so-called "black man".
I used to disregard these feelings and try to fit-in,
Afterall, "(mental) slavery is a choice".
I wonder if someday we can talk honestly about necessary blackness.
About unsolicited weights of responsibility,
Unending battles to stay alive,
And this constant need to validate our existence.
I'm not supposed to speak about these things
I am afterall privileged,
Far from the maddening crowd,
And somewhere in that hazy dual nationality state with no real entitlement to call anywhere home.
But Blackness is rising
And it is beautiful to see.
This new audacity and unapologetic pride of kids owning their origin to show off street dance moves in Times Square.
I may not be able to pull any shaku moves to save my own life,
But today i stepped into my predominantly white board meeting with a new sense of unrepentant blackness,
humming BasketMouth's beats
And mouthing 'Dia Fada' as i owned my own space.