I had french fries delivered to my house yesterday. They were left on my doorstep by someone I had never met. I wonder what you’d think of that?
I imagine that this situation blows your mind on so many levels. When I think about you, the life you led, the decades you spanned, and things you’ve endured—I am in awe of this privilege I occupy. From 1928 to 2021, there has been so much change. And, yet so much has remained the same.
Your face flashes through my mind, and I sink into deep reflection about how much our world has evolved (for better or worse) in the last 92 years. I am so focused on the list emerging in my head that I forget about the brown paper bag in my hand. Instead, I suddenly feel overwhelmed by what you’d think of this very ordinary modern-day moment.
- The speed at which I got food was remarkable. I did not need to walk to a store, cut the potatoes, try to stretch the potatoes across seven kids, prepare them, cook them, or put them on the table. I simply pressed a button, paid for them, and they arrived.
- I was at ease. I was not worried that the man coming to my door would do anything other than drop off the french fries. I did not have to tolerate any ill will towards my family or me. We controlled the situation. We had the freedom to decide what we did and how we did it.
- It caused me no emotional or bodily harm to have this luxury. I did not need to give up anything to meet my needs. There is no lingering “amount owed.” I did not need to give my sweat, tears, or soul to this interaction. I asked for what I wanted, it arrived, and my day went on without issue or concern.
- I felt comfortable in my skin. I was faceless to the delivery driver. He had no idea I was Black. The anonymity of the transaction allowed me to get what I wanted without worrying about my skin color, a privilege you and I have not always had. He left the bag, and I felt no threat to my being. My skin color may have mattered to him, but I could guard myself against anything that would cause me harm.
My french fries are getting cold. And, I realize I am grateful and yet so hungry. But, I am not hungry for the crisp, salty potatoes I have in my bag. No, I am hungry for a collective vision of Black brilliance. I want to know what evolution looks like in the movement to acknowledge, celebrate, and bolster Black brilliance over the next 92 years.
I open the bag, grab a french fry, and ask myself, What will be different because of what we’ve built together?
What does progress in the movement for Black brilliance look like to you, and how will it impact the generations to come? Reply to us and share your thoughts on social media. Let’s build a collective definition for progress in our movement!