A Month in Memoriam, Revisited: Fin

So it’s officially been a week since A Month in Memoriam came to an end.

I asked myself, “What now?”

What now, after 29 days of my “uniform” ?

What’s next?

I’ve worn The And Counting Collection twice since February 29th.

What if I made the commitment to wear a shirt once a week for the next year?

What would that be like?

What would that feel like?

Can that too be considered both a commitment and a sacrifice?

I ask these questions not as a rhetorical ploy but truly because I’m wondering and do not have the answers.

What does it mean to wear Black death?

What does it mean to bear the names of brothers and sisters I’ve never even met yet feel so connected to?

I will never forget February 2016. The past 29 days allowed me to think, reflect, grieve and share in ways I otherwise might not have been able to.

The pressure I put on myself to post daily held me accountable. There was no, “Oh, I’ll just do this later,” or, “Meah, I don’t feel like writing today.”

By slacking, I was also slipping.

Someone (at least I told myself), even literally just one person, would be waiting for that next post.

I cannot remember the last time I challenged myself in a way that I was willing to do whatever it took to rise to the occasion. I cannot remember the last time I’ve written this much, this consistently.

I found myself doing whatever I could to remember moments of my day. I’d write notes on my phone, whip out my notebook or record audio notes while driving.

I dug deep into GLOSSRAGS emails to recall just exactly what was said. I wanted to tell my story and the journey and growth of GLOSSRAGS as accurately as possible.

There were times when I wondered if my emotions were heightened because wearing the shirts or because of what was going on, like Trayvon and Jordan’s birthdays, MarShawn’s suicide and Liang’s conviction. I could not predict what would unfold this month. Either way, I felt it.

Shouldn’t Black History Month not only be about what’s happened in the past but also about what’s happening at this very moment?

Living history must be recorded too.

For my parents’ and grandparents’ generation it was, “Where were you when King died? When JFK was shot? When they got Fred? When crack hit? When they beat Rodney?”

For us, it’s, “Where were you when Sean died? And Oscar? Trayvon? Renisha? Mike? Rekia? Freddie? No wait, what was his name? She didn’t really hang herself, did she?”

What does it mean to live in a time where, for the most part, lynchings are a thing of the past but Black death, especially by guns and pure evil, are increasingly more prevalent?

I am thankful for each and every person who took the time to read what I wrote. I am thankful for Othello and Carl for capturing my daily diary through their lenses.

I am thankful for the late nights turned early mornings when my body yearned to go to sleep but when my mind pushed me to write.

I am grateful to God for the healing that took place and the suffering I will continue to endure because this path He’s placed me on is neither easy nor certain.

I am thankful for a community of people across the world who keep the vision, mission and movement of GLOSSRAGS alive by investing their dollars into our goods so that we can continue to question, disrupt and inspire.

I am thankful to be alive, today in this Black skin and to have made it through the past month with 27 reasons — and more, worth living and writing for.