Visioning a black life that only animates death—a life conditioned by and organized around the force of trauma—results in me failing to see the glory of which [Janelle] Monae sings in ‘Victory.’ What is the danger of such a limited gaze? What do I lose, or gain, by returning to the darkness only to sit within the expanse of its obscurity and not its splendor? What traces are carried, or left behind, when a black life is shortsightedly imagined and narrativized as a unitary force subject to the conditions of cultural trauma and structural violences and not a miscellany of sorts that animates the interconnectedness of subjection and resistance, death and life, beauty and truth? What is the role of the writer who wishes to write and re-write a black life in these times when it is easier for some to believe that the black is more monster than genius and black life is more lifeless than it is alive?

Darnell Moore, “On Writing Black Life”

(via the dopest ethiopienne)


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