Held Together, Still
My weekend was full, not in a busy running all over the place way, but in a warm and nourishing way.
On Sunday, I gathered with friends, colleagues, and co-conspirators. We came together to mark a shift in the work we’ve been doing—something closing, something else opening. We’ve known each other through so many roles, institutions, and affiliations. What struck me most was how these relationships have lasted long after we left the institutions, and that isn’t an accident. It’s been nearly nine years of showing up for one another, pouring into each other not just professionally, but with real care, especially during the tough seasons. We’ve been there for each other when babies were born, loved ones passed away, health challenges emerged, finding love, moving to new cities, and all the ways life comes at us.
The time together this weekend was also significant, as it fell on a particularly auspicious date on the calendar. We gathered on May 25, five years to the day since George Floyd was murdered. That day also happens to be African Liberation Day, a global call for unity and sovereignty across the African continent. And we were heading into Memorial Day, a holiday that owes its origins to the solemn act of African Americans in South Carolina in 1865, when they honored Union soldiers with flowers and a procession. And if you're from Brooklyn, this weekend also means DanceAfrica, a four-day festival of music, movement, and cultural celebration.
The space where we gathered, on Sunday, Grace Place, holds significance and a family legacy of its own. And honestly, I needed it this weekend, to step away from the headlines, the insane executive orders, and the constant scroll of bad news. I needed to remember what it feels like to be in spaces where laughter and smiles come easily. Where joy doesn’t mean that we are forgetting, but instead we’re refusing to be consumed.
This weekend reminded me: the work isn’t always about pushing back against what harms us, but it’s also about protecting what connects us. Relationships that can survive institutions, structures, and titles. Circles that don’t collapse under pressure. Communities where we don’t have to explain why we’re tired, because we already know.
This weekend reminded me to stay in practice. To stay with my people. To stay grounded in our memory, culture, and shared values. We’re moving into June now. Haitian Heritage Month is coming to a close, and the year is nearly halfway gone. But I want to carry this energy forward, the energy of staying in community, on purpose.
As we approach the halfway point of 2025, what do you want to lean more into with intention, something that will sustain you in these challenging times?
