How many Black men pretend that they are okay when they are not okay? How many Black men are trying to smile through the pain? How many Black men spend years swallowing down sadness, pretending they are fine? If we are going to construct narratives, let us build narratives that tell Black men that crying isn’t weakness, that hurting is part of being human, that protecting Black women doesn’t always mean violence. Teach Black men that to love anyone, you must love yourself first, and that starts by confronting your past so that you are in a position to love fully, honestly, and openly.

I am so tired of seeing Black men in pieces. I am not celebrating the fragments of Black men.