Excuse My Adlib Radio

EMA blog

I Love You and I’m Not Dead

It was a Wednesday night, and  I was headed to bed. Honestly, I may have already been in bed. This was before I matriculated into full washdom, so it was likely 10:30-10:45pm. Nowadays I rarely see anybody’s 1030pm on a weeknight. Quiet as kept on a weekend too if the weather is just right and my washedness is in full glory. I’m rambling. I was in bed and I got a phone call from a friend and she said “what are you doing? Im coming to pick you up.” “I’m in the bed and its Wednesday I want to get to work early, I’m already in bed.” “Well get out of bed, I’m outside let’s go!” Most folks that know me know that I am susceptible to peer pressure specifically when that pressure is for tom and foolery. I got dressed and headed out. We went to a classically hood spot and we danced and drank and drank and danced. I surrendered to the night, but not fully because I had not had any shots. Well the energy you put out in the universe you get back and shots appeared before us. I looked at my friend with despair “You know I’m not a shot taker. I cannot take this shot. This will be my nail in the coffin for work tomorrow.” *whimpers* What followed was top five motivational speeches I have been privy to.

“Fuck work tomorrow, let me tell you something. We are black women, with damn good jobs, living a damn good life and we are handling our damn business. Take this shot, because you deserve this. We work hard. This shot is for all the hard times. Take this shot. Do you know why because we have a black ass president who has a black ass wife and two black ass kids. take this shot for them!”

And you know what? I took the shot. It was good, and I made it to work the next day. Fully functioning…somehow. That speech stayed with me, and I think about it especially now as Barack and Michelle and Malia and Sasha are walking out of our lives. Father God. This farewell run they have been on has swelled my heart and my tear ducts. How blessed we were to have them. To see a black family. An undeniably black family. Not a racially ambiguous wife and no ambiguous children. Black children. My God, we were blessed. I didn’t even know I needed this in my life but I did. We all did. To see someone like me, like my mama, like my friends, like my aunties. I needed it. I benefited from it in ways I never considered.

They were everything we needed. They were perfect. Michelle’s hair, it was like mine. Except infinitely more amazing with lots of body. I mean I have amazing hair but still. To have someone who spoke how I spoke and my family spoke. All the cultural tones of general conversation. That was our first family. It was my first first family. They were like me and mines. The power of their presence was breathtaking. They are a beautiful family.
I know they have to go. I accept it, but I love them. Don’t forget me.

*side note RIP to the actual Jimmy Snuka. I have to show props to my namesake, but don’t worry guys I’m still kicking.