rest in power, Bryson Young.

Life is so precious, y’all. I was just ranting to my play brother about how life is a hamster wheel. What are we doing and why are we doing it?

But then tonight I saw that same play brother in a one minute play festival. Two years ago after that year’s one minute play festival, a fellow company member emailed me to get feedback on her play “Black Man Walking.” We exhanged emails and discussed the complexity of her writing this, as a white womxn. And of reaching out to me, a Black man. I recently thought about that conversation after a white womxn gasped at the sight of me around a blind corner. I also remembered that this womxn, the playwright, who I had only talked to less than four times had been moved by my acting and my comments on her script. And I remember being touched by her tenacity.

And then I come home to find three of my housemates in various states of exhaustion. A friend of my housemates passed tonight. I had seen him on campus many times but hadn’t spoken to him until earlier this week when he stopped by. I was busy doing my bibliography and didn’t spend much time with him. But I still observed that he laughed at everything, his spirit was infectious, he was a polyglot, and he planned on becoming a doctor.

I don’t even know how to feel except hurt. Hurt for him, hurt for the fact that another human is gone and that he was so long. Hurt for my housemates who are hurting.

And not that everything is connected to the movement, but it is. We’re out here dying of natural causes already. We’re out here hurting and mourning. And yet we have five Black church arsons in six days? And some of you are too afraid to call out white supremacy for fear of losing a racist cousin?

I get it, precisely because life is precious. But I’m just so tired.

Go hug your loved ones. Tell them you love them. Give a friend a compliment. Call your mom. Think about how you can give love, receive love, and appreciate those people who are still alive. This includes men, too. Don’t let the fragile construction of masculinity stop you from expressing your feelings, thoughts, or emotions with those who are important in your life.

Rest in power, fam.

(reposted from my FB so that it doesn’t get lost in the feed. Bryson’s spirit is too live to let die).


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