bell hooks

tomorrow, i imagine but today i cry

bell hooks died a year ago.

i feel like i am floating above myself to critique myself as to what i *ought* to think about her, that i ought to share a Teaching to Transgress quote with you

”…any radical pedagogy must insist that everyone’s presence is acknowledged. That insistence cannot be simply stated. It has to be demonstrated through pedagogical practices. To begin, the professor must genuinely value everyone’s presence.”

i should share some of her quotes on radical love that confronts and invites

“The moment we choose to love we begin to move against domination, against oppression. The moment we choose to love we begin to move towards freedom, to act in ways that liberate ourselves and others.”

or

“Dominator culture has tried to keep us all afraid, to make us choose safety instead of risk, sameness instead of diversity. Moving through that fear, finding out what connects us, reveling in our differences; this is the process that brings us closer, that gives us a world of shared values, of meaningful community.”

but today i am contemplating her face in this photo taken by Karjean Levine

an almost sepia photo of bell hooks, with braided hair, looking at the camera as she sits in a chair

the wisps of hair on the top of her head that refuse to be braided or laid down

i have hairs that do that

the simplicity of each braid and the curls at the end of them

the utility that protects the hair but doesn’t make a fuss

the roundness of her face and the slope and spread of her nose

the slight slouch of her shoulders

i know these

i know these like i know myself

she is so real and close and not just luminous but near and embodied and breathing and human

her too-soon death is just one more robbery

why are you gone

i know that bell hooks was luminous and her ideas were large

so large that she changed her name to get out of the way of them

but i am crying today because we lost her too soon and because i remember her push to better and wider love, and it is contrasting so starkly

against conversations about what Brittney Griner’s release from a Russian work camp is “worth” because why not free that other guy instead and what about that arms dealer

and how Atatiana Jefferson’s murderer is on trial for shooting her to death in her home in front of her nephew because somehow *he* felt threatened as he lurked in her space, unannounced

and how Megan Thee Stallion got shot but so what

bell’s call made room for us with dignity and love was her retort to oppression

she knew that perfect love casts out fear

she preached good news to those who were far and near

her words discipled me and so many others

this woman with her wispy hairs and rounded cheeks forged futures and imaginations of joy

with her words and her questions and her life

i understand Jesus a bit better because of bell hooks

(we lost him, too, too soon)

bell hooks call to love made room for us all and her call came from a body and a lived experience that makes her move toward love simply revolutionary

how a Black woman raised in America can call for unabashed dignifying love and not revenge is a damn miracle

the practice of love in a hostile place is otherworldly

preparing a table in the presence of enemies

words a rod and staff of comfort;

love with us; a mirror of Emmanuel

but she’s gone

tomorrow, i will imagine a world of love

to honor her and to love like Jesus

Spirit will guide

but today i cry and look at those wispy, defiant hairs