Today's Reading: There's Somethin' About Love: A Novel (Chapter 1)

In today’s reading, B.W. McKay reads Chapter 1 of There’s Somethin’ about Love: A Novel. To purchase a copy of the paperback or Kindle version please click here.

Moving at the Speed of Love

I opened the laptop to a blank page— the same blank page I’d unsuccessfully eluded for months. The backspace key had become my best friend as nothing I’d written felt good enough. To put it bluntly, I’ve been struggling with writing lately. My little girl has dominated my thoughts for months; I’m obsessed with her already. She’ll be making her debut soon. This period of my life has certainly been a gift that keeps on giving. From baby appointments to putting together my daughter’s rosey pink nursery: I’ve been floating on cloud nine. Life has been moving at the speed of love.

In my quiet time, I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching. I’ve asked myself questions like: what will this new version of myself look like? Will I be a good father? Am I still a good writer? Have I been too hard on myself? It’s hard to focus when you can hardly catch your breath. It took the strength of Moses to string these words together. I’ve felt immense guilt when I think of all the days I hadn’t written a single meaningful word. My eyes are often drawn to the folder where my latest manuscript has been collecting a thick layer of dust. There’s a part of me that unrealistically believed nothing could slip, even in a transitory period of my life. I’ve fallen into this trap in the past.

I’ve written this piece for those who travel this road. Perhaps you’ve felt the same guilt recently. Maybe you haven’t been able to connect with your craft due to recent changes in your life. Transition, although beautiful, can still be tough to grapple with. I’ve been meditating on the word grace as of late. Grace is what we should extend to ourselves when we feel disconnected and unsure of how to move forward. If you’ve been hard on yourself lately, I kindly ask that you step back and give yourself permission to feel without judgment. When life moves at the speed of love, hold on and enjoy the ride. You’ll figure out how to move forward when the time is right. Enjoy the moment as it is. Everything will eventually fall into place.

Digging Deep Within: An Essay

I’ve been thinking a lot about my life as I do my best to prepare for the gift of fatherhood. As I sit here at my writing desk in the quiet of dawn, I’m processing my journey thus far. My life is beautiful today, but that certainly wasn’t always the case. There were some tough days along the way that I still think about from time to time. It’s interesting how such a joyous occasion could evoke such emotion.

For years I made excuses for the people I loved, even those who perpetually hurt me without remorse or an ounce of consideration. My church preached love without boundaries, reckless forgiveness, and reconciliation at the expense of your own well-being. I built my foundation on these damning principles. I thought it was my job to fix people. I shared the burden of my parents’ missteps. On the surface, it was hard to see they’d lost their way. The multiple evictions, fighting, and accusations of cheating rocked my family. When their toxicity finally bubbled to the surface, my world completely crumbled.

There wasn’t accountability, there was blaming. They fought each other with cannonballs as my sister and I watched from the battle-torn trenches. Caught in the crosshairs of their dysfunction, I felt powerless. Stone by stone, the walls of Jericho fell and all they could think about was themselves. My parents could no longer hide behind their thin veil of perfection.

What do you do when the very people who were supposed to protect you were also turning your life upside down? I vividly remember the pain I felt during our first eviction. I was in high school at the time. We were angrily told to get over it. My sister and I became the collateral damage in their shock and awe campaign. We hotel-hopped, moved around, and struggled to find our footing for years. The truth was buried in a minefield. Trust was breached forever. We were children living in a web of confusion that our parents created. They considered themselves victims in an ugly world, but who really suffered?

While I have consciously made the choice to forgive my parents, I have not forgotten. When I became a man, I confronted them about the hurtful things they’d done. For my own sake, I had to talk to them about it. They never took ownership, but this was the beginning of creating boundaries. Although you move on in life, you never forget. It’s time to start holding the people we love accountable. Enforcing boundaries is the ultimate act of self-love. Boundaries are everything to me.

As the man of my home, I don’t allow venomous energy to enter my home. We close the door on it. If I can’t trust you, we can’t have a relationship. If boundaries are violated there’s nothing left. If you perpetually curate confusion, I cannot build with you. I learned early that some of the most hurtful people can be some of the closest people to you. Perhaps you can relate? Maybe you’re experiencing this today. There’s hope. When I was a young man, I endured. Today, I’ve taken the power back. I’m reclaiming my time and you can too. The beauty in all this is we get to eventually create our own path. We have the power to choose who we will allow into our lives, and how beautiful our lives will become.

A Fight for Blackness

The grotesque attack on Blackness couldn’t be clearer. The anti-Black agenda will not rest until it devours every ounce of consciousness. These coordinated attacks via our legislative system are just the tip of the iceberg. Here we are yet again at another pivotal moment in history as Florida Governor, Ron DeSantis seeks to water down and erase our history. I’d like to enlighten Mr. DeSantis; there is no American history without Black history. Our struggle, impact, and contributions are deeply American despite their unwillingness to acknowledge the truth.

Politicians continue to prove their handlers and political aspirations are of the utmost importance. I believe DeSantis has his sights set on the White House. Trump set the stage perfectly for these reprobate clones, and as a result, we are likely to see more bills and policies openly aimed at the destruction of Black families.

As I write this essay, I struggle to understand why they’re afraid of diversity. Why do they continue to play these harmful games with our lives? How will long will they incubate hatred? I can only imagine how tiring that can be. Until America addresses its sin against Black people, there will never be peace. While it’s disheartening to watch what’s happening in Florida, I’m encouraged by our response. All over the nation, people have spoken out against these sinister policies.

The education of young Black people must begin in our homes. We are the custodians of our history. We must support Black educators who find themselves in the trenches as the battle for our children rages on. We must support Black authors and thought leaders who uplift and encourage the love of our Blackness. We are at war, make no mistake about it.

A Renaissance of Black Love

Remnants of sunlight desperately cling to my window. The moon and its cast of twinkling stars will soon grace the Lord’s canvas. This is when I do my best writing. There’s something uniquely alluring about being alone with my thoughts as a candle burns softly atop my coffee table. The scent of warm vanilla fills the room with tranquility as I dig deep into my soul to find the words to say. I desire to express myself to you this evening, Queen.

I long for the day you receive everything that has been taken from you. You’re tired, I can see it in your eyes. You’ve cried out in the darkness for far too long. You’ve yearned for our love, support and protection. How have we repaid you? With scraps? With broken promises? We’ve betrayed you with our deeds and lack of consideration. We’ve harmed you with our words. You’ve never deserved this. We fuss, fight and drift further apart. Like a ship without a sail in search of dry land, we’re lost without you. It’s evident. We’ll never see the promised land if we continue to forsake you. There is no heaven without you by our side. To sin against you, is to sin against ourselves. If it were not for a Black woman, we would not be here. The war between us must end. On the battlefield of love there are only casualties.

Black woman, you deserve nothing short of our best. We must protect you with our lives. We must honor you with every ounce of our being. We must lift you up and support your dreams just as you’ve supported ours. We must love you out loud. We must cancel those who wish to abuse you and profit on your pain. The next generation of men are watching us. I’m doing my part. I’ve devoted my life to it. It’s reflected in the way I honor the Black women in my life. I pray there would be a renaissance of Black love. Black love is life. Black love is everything.

More Life

The peaks above my home were hidden in a sea of puffy clouds and mist. Just beyond my courtyard, I watched a single bead of leftover rainwater trickle down the side of my favorite saguaro. Puddles of water found rest near my entryway. The birds frolicked through the air without a care. An unusually cool breeze nipped at my skin. The sound of laughter could be heard on the other side of the wash. A familiar hot air balloon drifted by in the sky adorning its beautiful array of desert hues. More specifically it was a collage of reds, yellows, and greens. These are the moments you live for. I began to question the point of rushing through life. Why do we often feel the need to be in a constant state of motion?

Late nights and early mornings have become a trend for me these days. My brazen attempts at getting a few more minutes of sleep each morning are often foiled by the sun. Its warm rays beam through the shutters onto my face without shame. There’s hardly ever a real need to rush, but I find myself at that crossroad time and time again. For the past few days, I’ve done nothing but watch movies and eat as if there were no tomorrow. There were no writing sessions or anything else of substance for that matter. For years I was of the belief that success required an unhealthy amount of obsession. I’ve read all the books. I’ve consumed all of the “guru” content and still felt unsettled. Driven by an insane desire to achieve more, my mental health suffered. I was a zombie. No matter what I published, I felt like a perpetual failure– nothing I’d write ever felt good enough.

A dark cloud of guilt would loom over me whenever I decided to step away from my craft, even if it were just for a moment to catch my breath. There are many people stuck in this trap. I’ve come to realize the folly of it all. You miss out on living by being consumed with chasing the proverbial pot at the end of the rainbow. There’s nothing wrong with desiring to become the best version of yourself, but you can’t forsake yourself in the process. I’ve been learning to embrace going with the flow more often in my life and it’s been nothing short of amazing.

Personally, this year won’t be about an insane amount of goals; this year will be about more living. There isn’t a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow when you’re running yourself into the ground, there’s only stress, discontentment, and pain. Today, I encourage you to re-evaluate what’s on your plate if you’ve been feeling pressured. Choose to live in the moment. Subscribe to more of what gives you joy. Dust off your hobbies and commit to finding yourself again. Make yourself a priority for a change, you’re worth it.

I Chose Grace

As the year comes to an emphatic close, I find myself at peace. This peace wasn’t the result of everything going according to plan, or everything working out the way I’d hoped. I’ll be the first to tell you I didn’t accomplish all of the lofty goals I’d set for myself at the beginning of this year. In fact, many of these goals are staring up at me from the inside of my journal reminding me of my humanity as I write this essay. If I judged myself purely on my accomplishments this year, It would be easy for me to admit I fell short.

This piece today isn’t a celebratory lap in the traditional sense. You won’t find any gloating about accomplishments. This piece today is about finding peace in the midst of unfinished business. This composition is about loving yourself right where you are, just as you are despite whether you moved the needle or not. I understand how difficult it is to cut yourself slack. You won’t ever be happy being hard on yourself.

This year, I chose grace. Extending grace to myself was one of the most beautiful gifts I could have ever given myself— it’s one of the most beautiful gifts you can give yourself as you take personal inventory. I found immense peace inside of this grace and it’s my hope that you will too. It’s liberating.

When you think back on this year I don’t want you to spend too much energy focusing on what’s left on the table. Like I always say, the manifestation of greatness takes time. Becoming the best version of yourself takes time. You will reach your promised land if you keep moving forward. Relish the moments you made yourself smile. Think of the small steps forward that made you proud. Think of the little victories that fed your confidence. Think of the moments that made your heart flutter with love. Relish the moments that made you believe in yourself again. As you begin thinking about next year, I want you to put a bigger emphasis on yourself. Choose to be kind to yourself as you bloom.

America Without Black People

After hundreds of years of enslavement, exploitation, and undermining in America, we as Black people find ourselves at an interesting place in history. It’s apparently clear where the line in the sand has been drawn despite America’s identity crisis. We’ve been sold America is this proverbial melting pot of happiness and opportunity for all if you’re willing to put in the work. All people are not afforded these “opportunities.” In fact, Black people have often been reduced to grotesque caricatures and subjects of intentionally skewed statistics based on white lies, white delusions of grandeur, and white self-righteousness. Our oppression is not a fallacy or an excuse. The truth is met with opposition when it doesn’t promote their version of reality. “All you do is talk about race,” they say when the pressure is on. “Black people just want someone to blame for their problems.” I’ve heard it all before. Anti-Blackness is widely accepted and doesn’t appear to be going away anytime soon. In spite of our challenges, we continue to rise.

As a Black man who has been able to appreciate a level of success, I still find myself being pressured to explain how and why I’ve been able to enjoy some of the fruits of my labor as if Black people aren’t supposed to have anything. Odd stares and awkward moments when I answer the door to my home are constant reminders of just how badly the scales have been tipped. I can’t help but laugh at the egregiousness of it all. With that being said, I’ve pondered what would become of America if Black people collectively decided to leave and never return.

While I understand this would never happen, I must be honest I’m intrigued by the thought. Would the nation descend into chaos? Would America be faced with an existential crisis? Who would be the face of the faux “inner city” per capita crime statistics? Where would their red herrings be perched? Without our people and our contributions to society, what would be left? Who would we become as a people if we stopped playing their game, essentially taking the ball and going home? That is the real question here.

Let the truth be known, America is and would be absolutely nothing without Black people. Appreciating and recognizing the importance of Black folks does not diminish other groups of people. While many seek to virtue signal and change the narrative when we seek to understand our history, I’m encouraged by many who are standing up to the double standard. When America decides to adequately address and take accountability for its sin against Black people, only then may we begin to see real progress.

Letting Love Lead the Way

The text message failed again; the call couldn’t be completed as dialed. The number hadn’t been in service for years. I found myself staring down at the phone as if it were not true. Of course, it was true. I wanted to trade the truth for a lie. My heart was exposed. She was gone and there was nothing I could do about it. Grief can easily alter the trajectory of the most well-intentioned day, and for me that day it did.

They said time healed all wounds, but what if time stood still? What if the past was too beautiful to let go of? I stayed to myself and pushed away the very people who wanted to be there for me. I still regret my actions to this day. Love was met with a stone wall. There was a coldness about me that I didn’t recognize. I was far too tough to let people in, even those closest to me.

I’d sit in the dark for hours just thinking of how just one word from my mother could wake me up from the nightmare. She was fine just months earlier, how could this possibly be the story of my life? Mothers weren’t supposed to die before their son’s thirtieth birthday. Mothers weren’t supposed to die before holding their grandchildren. The reality was a painful pill to swallow.

Today, I’m at peace. It took me some time to get there, but I’m thankful. I had to talk to someone; I couldn’t do it on my own. I’m writing this piece today to those who are dealing with the loss of a loved one. Although our stories may be different, the pain is the same.

Don’t let anyone rush you through your process. Some people try to put time periods on grief. You’re allowed to feel without guilt or judgment. I encourage you to be kind to yourself. Let love in and let it lead the way. Love is what gets you through tough days and nights. The road ahead won’t always be easy, but with love leading the way you’re in good hands.

The white Lie

The battle between good and evil is a story as old as time. This epic battle has captivated many of us since we were children. Stories filled with dark demons and the redeeming power of the “light” were commonplace. I’d never once pondered there could be a deeper meaning— a meaning that happens to be far more sinister than many can fathom.

The egregious illusion of white purity continues to be perpetuated by ghastly images of a blonde hair blue-eyed deeply European portrayal of Christ. Controversially speaking, white Jesus has been been the poster child of white supremacy for as long as I have been aware of my place in the world. Unapologetic Blackness is the ultimate antithesis and it shows. The deliberate attack on Blackness can be seen throughout history. It’s easy to spot the brazen attempts, but most Anti-Black assaults are subtle in nature. Disney movies, cartoons, and marketing ads all feature outdated juxtapositions.

Christianity has been the vehicle of choice used to further the white superiority complex and has aided the ever-growing racial divide. White-washed faux historical recounting has comfortably remained the backbone of America and many other parts of the world where colonization thrived. We must challenge damaging worldviews no matter how commonplace they appear.

When will Black stop being synonymous with all things evil? The light and dark juxtaposition where white is pure and black is filthy needs to be abolished today. It’s a poor attempt at covertly furthering the notion that white is the standard of all things good and holy.

I believe by continuing to challenge white supremacy, we can slowly disrupt and destroy the ideas and attitudes that were created to diminish our place in this country and the world alike.