Honestly, I didn’t think I was going to grieve like this. Unfortunately, I don’t become an emotional wreck with hot wet tears streaming down my face or emotional breakdowns like my liberal white women counterparts when Trump won the 2016 presidency. It’s not my style. I just keep it on the inside like every other disguised convoluted emotional wreck you know.
But I do think a lot. Too much in fact.
As a result of the exit of the Obamas, I’ve taken the time to reflect on the changes in black American popular culture over the past 8 years. The ups, downs, twisted turns and formations of new identities and subcultures as a result of just seeing a black family hold the nation’s highest political office. It has been one hell of a ride and truly, I can’t be prouder of the things I’ve seen and the young black people I’ve met. It’s like I’ve waited my entire life to be able to see black souls like me and find clothes that truly fit my personality. But these exciting changes didn’t happen without a few serious sacrifices to some traditional tenants of black culture. I’m talking more than the death of some famous black people. More than the decline of black women getting their hair permed. Bigger than the growing generational gap between black elders and youth.
With change comes the realization that things don’t have to stay the same.
(Ch-ch-changes! Turn and face the strange. Changes!)