affirmations for black and brown lives

BeSteadwell.com
I recommend finding a comfortable position, breathing deeply and repeating each phrase to yourself.
Yesterday I felt lost. Angry. Sad. Exhausted. I couldn't process how I felt. For me-Black people being hunted and murdered doesn't get easier to bare. It shouldn't. And it won't stop. So what do Black and Brown folks do with heavier and heavier hearts? What do we do with our grief and our anger?
I've dreamt of creating a meditation and affirmation album for a long time. It's felt more urgent recently. Since the murder of Ahmaud Arbery, I wanted to create a meditation specifically for people of color grieving the loss of Black lives. The specific collective grief of losing a person you've never met, yet this person feels like your brother. Feels like you. I wrote words that i needed to hear but whenever I tried to record, my body wouldn't let me. I know most of y'all are artists too and you know it can be nearly impossible, sometimes dangerous to "work" when you're in the middle of grief. Sometimes it needs to sit. Sometimes you need some space before you can make sense of it.
This morning I woke up ready to create this piece. I started layering voice after voice, mixing, weaving the voices from left to right. Adding harmonies. Then noise came from everywhere. Cars honking horns. Gate slamming. Dogs barking. Doors shutting. Birds chirping. Music playing. Yelling. Chatting. I stopped recording and asked Meka if she wanted to spend the day at her house. Nothing felt right. I was annoyed at everything.
When we got up to leave, we encountered my family's next-door neighbors celebrating their mother, Mrs. Jefferson's 96th birthday. My family has known Jeffersons for longer than I've been alive. Mrs. Jefferson is not a woman I know well. But I know she always looks good. And now I know she is deeply loved. My mom, dad, sister, brother trickled out and stood in the Jefferson's yard, watching what felt like the whole city pay homage to her. Black elders, their kids, the grandkids and great grandkids dressed up and circled her in warmth and love. A parade of cars full of folks honked and cheered down the street. A cop car rolled right up to her, sirens and lights blaring. A moment of hesitation, of feeling triggered (at least in my mind). The cop car slows and stops in front of her wheelchair. A loudspeaker cracks on-"Happy birthday, Mrs. Jefferson." People cheer. Music plays. Laughter.
Yea. We are here. Grieving. Angry. Loving. Celebrating. For at least one moment-what I saw today transcended my sadness. Black joy, life, love just is. I am grateful.
I love you all so much and I am sending you light.
Be