The Gospel of the Snap

We are expressive creatures. In our innermost vulnerabilities, we crave to be heard. When I think of expression, I imagine the boy in the back of the church asking his family what the word atonement means and being condemned for speaking out of line. I think of the silence that falls on the queer royalty when they cross into the threshold of the south side yet remained honored and revered from a distance from the north. I think of the history of stonewall, Wilde, Milk and Rimbaud that remains unspoken, unremembered by those who need it most.

I am preaching today’s sermon called the gospel of the snap. The proverbial camel’s back has been broken to life’s last straw. It is no longer enough to merely exist. We cannot continue to traipse about the earth accepting apathy for our existence. We must be heard. Make choices, commit to our convictions. It has become no longer enough to merely wave the hand and ask for acceptance. We need it from ourselves to be noticed and have every right to demand it.

It is no secret that we as a people are living on temperamental mines in hopes that some outside force will defuse them. Waiting has never done any difference to our lives and continuing to do so will yield the same result. I know I am exhausted of my mother’s silent tears when I walk out the door, the painted over joy and rainbows in our souls, and the shameful empty looks in the mirror at myself. It’s time for us to snap.

We must ready ourselves for a vocalized revolution. Now is our opportunity to open our mouths and speak to the everlasting existence shouting “I am here! I belong here. I am no one’s mistake.” We must not only speak this but breathe it into our breath like a whisper with clear slicing diction. The mountaintop is now only the stepping stool to the soapbox of our own declaration. My blood does not belong on the floor, my pride has no place hung up in someone’s closet, and my beauty is defined in my dictionary only. We are overdue for an aggressive loud and wrecking snap, my dears.

So, I propose to you. Look to your hands. Notice its percussion: Its vehemently boisterous quake of attention. Notice how the claps praises lady’s blues, how the fingers click and syncopate Ella’s scatting tune. Pay attention to how the fist invokes body shakes and shivers yet the open hand delivers. They frame out the mug and serve them dinner. They slap and scratch and touch and feel and heal. Listen to your hands, my kings and queens. We once held on to a corner of our earth and wrapped it into ourselves to call it ours. Where is your snap, girl? Where is your loud and powerful heart stopping snap that takes no prisoners? Who has your snap become? Why is your snap going by the name slave, commoner, trend?

I remember my snap much like I hear the ping of Sylvia Rivera’s quarters on the temples of riot officers. I remember my snap resounding in the minds of others, clearly enunciating “this you hear, this you see is who I am. Take all of it in, hunty!” As you are left with the passing trace of dust kicked up by my heels. I remember our snap syncing in unison. Finding harmonies and resonance in global understanding, as if we were communicating to each other “I feel you”.

Our sound needs not to be screamed as loud as screeching pop singers but should rumble at the pit of the stomach like our mother Mahalia. Our snaps should break adamantium armor and put that child in line. Let him know how he is acting up, allow her to act out, teach us how to take action. Get the synapses clicking, the ticker ticking, and those hands snapping. Build intellect with hands that knead oxygen into society’s dough. Dust off chipped shoulders that look weighed down and pick out thirsty naps in matted hair with oiled hands. Get that curl to snap like no weave ever could.

I entreat you to snap today. To add to the earth-shifting shake that is today’s sound. Be heard, be clear, be sharp as a knife and soft as the touching of two fingers. Snap for those who cannot nor will not snap for you.

Today I am serving the gospel of the snap.

I’ve had my snap today, what about you?