To Be Black Is To Have A Seat At The Table. Thank You Solange
I want to sit beneath the stars and rock out to this but it’s cold outside.
I want to walk through beads hanging from the doorway at grandma’s house .
Grab the record, let’s lounge in a dim, smoke-filled room and vibe to this.
The foundation of A Seat At The Table is so 70’s but so current. It helps me breathe easy to its buoyant beats.
It all started at around 10am this morning, I knew it was out — couldn’t stay up long enough to purchase it in the wee hours of the morning. My Twitter timeline with filled with joyous comments about this album and I don’t like to live vicariously through others so I bought the album; didn’t listen to one snippet just clicked “buy”.
Ran into this girl, she said why you always blaming?
Why you can’t just face it?
Why you always gotta be so mad?
Why you always talking shit, always be complaining?
Why you always gotta be, why you always gotta be so mad?
Listening to Mad made just that and I was curious to who that girl was asking Solange all them damn questions, but then I realized Solange and Lil’ Wayne are telling me that sometimes you gotta let some shit go.
The beauty of this album is that there’s no aesthetic, this is for EVERY black person. It’s a universal blackness. It’s cocoa butter healing recently re-opened wounds. There’s healing hymns in this album that moisturize my soul like coconut oil. I want to lay in the cold grass and listen to the crickets chirp to the harmonies of F.U.B.U.
I want to curl up on my couch with my bonnet on and listen to Master P’s words to the wise, Mama Tina sharing her unapologetically black thoughts and Matthew recounting racism in Alabama.
Twenty one tracks of what it means to be black, easy like Sunday morning, filling me up soul food Sunday dinner. Nourishing me mind, body and soul. I needed to move my body, I needed some musical healing.
I needed this. WE needed this.
I thank you for this gift Solange.
It’s 3:36am and I’m still sitting here having A Seat At The Table.