Ring Shout

by P. Djèlí Clark

“Ach! My point remains, we must dare to imagine a more equal world.”

She says chemicals in the body change up when you hate strong.

!!!!!!

“Girl, every choice we make is a new tomorrow. Whole worlds waiting to be born.”

Not no Presbyterian rain neither. I’m talking a shaking and hollerin’ Baptist downpour.

This made me giggle, lol

They like the places where we hurt. They use it against us. The words of the girl, my other self from the dream place, strikes with sudden understanding. The places where we hurt. Where we hurt. Not just me, all of us, colored folk everywhere, who carry our wounds with us, sometimes open for all to see, but always so much more buried and hidden deep. I remember the songs that come with all those visions. Songs full of hurt. Songs of sadness and tears. Songs pulsing with pain. A righteous anger and cry for justice. But not hate. They ain’t the same thing. Never was.

For a moment it seems the two are battling: my songs and his uneven chorus. But it was never a real fight. What I have is beautiful music inspired by struggle and fierce love. What he got ain’t nothing but hateful noise. Not a hint of soul to it.

“My grandpappy was right.” She winks. “We do get them back.”

I cry