Blood at the Root

by LaDarrion Williams

This is dedicated to the seventeen-year-old Black boy who the world told he doesn’t have magic. Lemme let you in on a lil’ secret: you do. It is in your blood; it is nestled deep in your bones. It is in the very soil you walk on that’s been blessed by the sweat and tears of your ancestors. Walk in it with pride.

“Life is somethin’, baybeh. It gives ya lemons, and ya got to make lemonade. I watched my mama, a beautiful Black woman with glory and frustration in her dark skin, spin gold from her fingers.”

‘We as a people always had to make a kingdom out of nothing.’ A kingdom built on the bones and the river of blood from those who came before us, and those who comes after.”

She had somethin’ down inside her nobody could take away. She believed in the water. She believed in the land too. She always say, ‘Both the land and the water got they secrets that they hide from the world.’ She say, ‘I believe in the water because that’s where our freedom is. Cuz our enemies, whoever they may be, will try to build everythin’ they have on the bones of those less fortunate. For a time, they cup will runneth over with the river of blood. Though it may linger, the bones will turn to ash, just to salt the ground they’ll walk on. And the blood, it’ll turn bitterness from vengeance. Their kingdom will fall.

“Baybeh, sometimes you got to get to the root of things. Find out what’s planted deep inside ya that’s rottin’, and you pluck it. Only then can you fill it with good things that’ll spring forth everythin’ you need in this life. The world may be fallin’ down round us, but best believe we gon’ laugh, we gon’ dance, and we gon’ be family. That’s how we’ve been for generations. No matter how much hate, how much pain they throw at us, we always gon’ rise. Resilience is a form of magic…that’s in our blood, chile, and that’s somethin’ they ain’t gon’ neva take away.

“Malik, in my experience, it’s not the actual hurt that is the most painful. It’s the letting go. And you are not as broken as you think you are. You are talented, good, and one of the brightest young men I know. I truly mean that.”

“Black girl magic is not just a hashtag. It’s a spell conjured up from the mouths of our ancestors. Black girl, you are God herself. Queen mother. Sister. Cinnamon princess. The healer of wounds. The giver of life. You are. I am. We are. Infinite. The head and the tail. Your body is made like mountains for them to build themselves upon. You are wonderfully and—now I know—not fearfully made. Because their fear is not your fault. It’s steeped in ignorance. And with that, they teach us to shrink ourselves. To disappear and not matter. They don’t know we are the foundation that they try so hard to mutilate and even kill themselves to be like a…Black girl.”

A family that prays together stays together. That’s what we do: party and carry on like life always do. Black folks gon’ laugh at tragedy, because it is what it is. Some say that death is only the beginning. It don’t bring no sadness, but joy. It’s a celebration of one’s life.