in the wake of the election, many Black queer men feel drained. The relentless pressure of navigating a world that often feels hostile wears us down.
We bear the weight of our identities — Black, queer, marginalized — in spaces that challenge our right to exist. This exhaustion isn’t just physical; it seeps into our souls.In moments like these, I turn inward, seeking renewal through faith and healing in the sacred spaces I’ve crafted for myself.
In those spaces, we find a strength that carries us forward, illuminating the path toward healing.Alice Walker once wrote in The Color Purple, “Any God I ever found in church, I brought in with me.” That sentiment resonates deeply.
As a child, I believed in a God who lived in everything: the wind whispering through the fields, the wildflowers behind my grandmother’s house.