Snowmobiling During the Apocalypse
Musings on feeling out what Black womaning looks like while raising kids, celebrating, and growing older
Hi. It may look like I haven’t been writing here because you haven’t seen the writing, but that’s because I ruminate and wax poetic while I am washing bell peppers or experiencing insomnia for the umpteenth time, or talking back at an audio book (have y’all read/listened to Neighbors, a collection of short stories written by Diane Oliver? You would be talking back to it, too!). I am pre-writing.
I did write a guest piece on how Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl performance reinforced some principles from the gospel of Luke, for Zach Lambert’s Substack last month (Zach is a true pastor—full of compassion and a protector of the flock), if you missed it.
But this month and last involved three primary endeavors:
Keeping sane during the U.S. apocalypse: moving from Ethics class to Current Events class with the boys has been wild. Oh yes, let’s discuss the virtues of truth and self-discipline and then read about who’s been fired, gaslit, deported, or nazified in the U.S. this morning. ICE is the new slave patrol. Colonialism is back en vogue.
My boys are not naive when it comes to abuse of power (we have read 2 Samuel after all), but reading the news has informed them of the specific strengths and weaknesses of this democratic republic (heavy on the weaknesses since checks and balances isn’t a thing anymore)—as well as informing their judgement concerning loved ones who voted this chaos in.
The end of U.S. democracy (such as it was) is unfolding, but we still have homework. And part of the work is holding on to character, truth, compassion, integrity in a time of mammon and violence. It’s surreal.
But homework: my children have been asking good questions and I pray they never stop (“Isn’t a war when two sides fight? What if the Palestinians aren’t fighting, just Israel? Doesn't ‘cease-fire’ mean no more bombing? Why is the news talking like both sides are doing the same thing?”).
The president is a man of lawlessness, and many will suffer or die needlessly because of the cabal of greed that has coalesced to crown fascism and unchecked capitalism queen and king. Yet, all this has happened before, and all of this will happen again (Battlestar Galactica nerdiness. Sorry). I stand in awe of the strength, joy, organization, and cooperative economics of my ancestors. I know some folks love to say, “I am not my ancestors,” but hey, not me. They are my beautiful past, my survival. I exist because they persisted. We need their wisdom in order to wage analog resistance. We cannot eat the internet.
We’re still studying the book of Luke at church, and it’s reassuring to see (and discuss) the starkly different message of Christ to the wealthy compared to the Christians who cheer for fascism. Rich folks are not close to salvation in the book—unless they make *significant* financial repair (see the Rich Young Ruler versus Zacchaeus).
I am an exhausted Black woman. I am still figuring out how to fight in this time—and most of the fight, for me, will be waged offline with my money and my time. Analog, like I said before. But like Tricia Hersey said, rest is resistance in this body (some of y’all have ample energy to resist because no one ever declared your natural hair illegal or tried to systemically keep you out of universities and jobs historically barred from you, or systemically incarcerate your sons and adultify your daughters; you aren’t followed in stores and neighborhoods and no one asks if you came from a broken home or participated in gangs; no one has tried to call your people’s presence in history irrelevant or dangerous; Hitler wouldn’t try to annihilate you and neither would Jim Crow—so you now have energy reserves and a great opportunity to organize and do what’s right).
This country perpetually reminds us that it hates Black bodies unless we are being used; the antithesis of good news. Leaving for a minute felt like refuge; eating food that wasn’t engineered to make me ill but stronger, strolling walkable streets with fresh air, engaging with white folks who didn’t set off my nervous system, enjoying creation without being surveilled, which leads me to the next item….Celebrating my birthday month: I decided to go to Iceland to celebrate, to fulfill a dream of mine: witnessing the Northern Lights. I didn’t even know what they were, just that they are pretty. I know now that the lights are a beautiful representation of a Lucille Clifton poem (come celebrate with me that everyday solar winds have tried to break through the Earth’s magnetic field to kill us all, and failed). The forecast for our entire trip was clouds, rain, snow, and wind. I cried while packing because that is not my idea of vacay—every Jamaican gene within me had buyer’s remorse. But let me tell you, the sun followed me. The day we left home, home was 30 degrees more frigid than Iceland. The sun broke through gloriously every day of our trip, and only when we departed did the snow and clouds descend. The night we went hunting for the Lights, clouds loomed in the night sky, and freezing rain and cold winds chilled our bones. It looked hopeless. Our tour guide Frímann decided to make hot cocoa for our group while we waited in a lonely field for a naked-eye glimpse of the solar winds’ failure to penetrate. And the sun’s winds followed us.
the moment i discovered that i am one of God’s favorites You can’t tell me nothing. Look what God gifted me for my birthday?
I also went to Iceland because it’s cold and my body needs that more than heat these days (perimenopause, y’all). I am expanding my definition of pleasure and adventure by taking up space in the Arctic Circle. This is an act of faith—to remember that despite what people might say or legislate against my body, it is ordained to be in the world. We even went snowmobiling (shout out to my intrepid cousin who operated a snowmobile for the first time, without a tutorial, in the daggum tundra). It was an absurd,exhilarating luxury to speed through a hostile environment that would absolutely end me in any other circumstance. Being held close enough to appreciate the stark beauty, the bite of cold, yet protected from exposure, starvation, hypothermia, frostbite. Luxurious.
Out here just chanting “whose world is this (the world is yours)/it’s mine it’s mine it’s mine (IYKYK) Navigating this new body: and by new, I mean changing, hormonal, strong, unpredictable, needy. I have never been so keenly aware of the vulnerable strand of life—how easily it can be cut; how I have lived such a significant length of it already. How do you want to live the rest of your life? is a question at the forefront of my mind—a loud question, and insistent one. I am compelled to answer with whether I move, what I put in my mouth or brain, the activity of my love, whom I choose to engage, how I address myself, how I approach God and whether I am open to God addressing me. Can anyone relate?
one day about the color blue (her writing is a feast for the senses!) and looked at my alopecia-ridden head of hair, and it looked…good? As if consistent tending caused it to grow past expectations?
This age is taking where other ages have given: I am losing weight, but also muscle, hair, eyesight. But I am also gaining mindfulness, expanding in patience and love, and recovering a sense of wonder.
I am still learning. For example, my body responds by healing in ways that astound me, because I believed I was beyond hope or repair. I sent a photo comment to
Me, February 2024 
Me, February 2025 And I wonder…what else can I tend to that I have neglected? What else may I watch grow before my strand is cut?
Y’all. I have written my first book: When We Talk to God: Prayers and Poems for Black Women. It’s available for pre-order wherever books are sold. Within its pages, you’ll see prayers about foundation matching, periods, brunch—but also miscarriage, abortion, death. The book includes illustrations, so there’s more gorgeous imagery on the inside to match the outside. This book is taking up space and encouraging me to do the same. I HATE marketing and self-promotion, but I have poured so much love into this book that I am willing to walk through awkwardness to get it to you.
She’s beautiful. Look at the cover!
THE WAY I LOOOOOOVE that the Father showed out with the sun and the lights!!! YOU DESERVE. YOU DESERVE. I’LL SAY IT AGAIN, YOU DESERVE!
And you are stunning, friend ❤️ I cannot wait for this book!!!
Congratulations on your new book!!! Woo hoo!! I can't wait to read it!