What’s More Revolutionary Than Black Love?

What’s more revolutionary than black love?

What’s more revolutionary than love between a black man and black woman? Between a black woman and a black woman? Between a black transwoman and a black man?

What’s more revolutionary than loving a black child? Loving a disabled black child? Loving a oppositional defiant black child? Loving a “too grown,” “too sweet,” or “too bad” black child?

What’s more revolutionary than loving a black body? Loving a black crack body? A black homeless body? A black dope dealing body? Loving a black tattooed, pierced-up, gold grill body?

What’s more revolutionary than black love? Love for the Shea Butter queens and the weavey wonders? Love for the bare-faced beauties and the beat-face baddies? Love for the fat femmes and everything in between?

What’s more revolutionary than black love?

What’s more revolutionary than loving them, the non-binary black person? Or loving her, the ratchet black girl? Or loving him, the Hotep black man?

What’s more revolutionary than loving the multiracial black body? The “passing” black body? The racially ambiguous black body? The diasporic black body? The international black body?

Love for the black man passing out his mixtape on the street. Love for the black woman doing hair from her living room. Love for the fast food worker fighting to make a livable wage.

Love for the black girls with twerk videos on the internet. Love for the black boys standing in line at 4am for Jordans. Love for the black parents that couldn’t get it right. Love for the black parents that did.

What’s more revolutionary than loving the black mind? The schizophrenic black mind? The depressive black mind? The creative black mind? The mathematic black mind? The woke black mind? The colonized black mind?

Black love is revolutionary. It is loving the black body in its entirety. Unconditionally. Wholly. Peacefully. Respectfully. Compassionately. Undeniably. Unwaveringly.

Revolutionarily.

What’s more revolutionary than black love?

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