Red, White, Blue & Rhythm

I celebrate today—

July 4th

with full breath

and bold sway.

Not as an outsider

peeking in,

but as an heir

to the soil

beneath my melanated skin.

Before a single star

spangled the flag,

my ancestors

plowed this land—

not with pride,

but with pain.

Still

we remain.

We built the bones

of this nation,

rail by rail,

brick by brick.

Rhythm in our blood,

resistance in our grip.

I am an American

first and forever,

though history

tried to sever

my worth

from the parchment—

I inked it in

with my spirit

and sermon.

My people,

we served in every war:

from the front lines

of Normandy

to the battlefields

of the Civil War.

Buffalo Soldiers

to Tuskegee Airmen,

Black women

with bandages

in their hands—

prayers

on their tongues,

fighting battles

both seen

and unseen.

My grandfather

stood under bombs

in Korea.

My cousin

salutes in camouflage

this very year.

This red, white, and blue?

Yes—

we shed blood

for it too.

So light the fireworks

high and proud.

Let the booms echo

like spirituals

sung loud.

We celebrate

with ribs on the grill

and joy in the air—

not blind

to the past,

but bold

in how we care.

Essence Fest

flows like a river

through July—

our culture,

our joy,

our reasons why.

We dance,

we laugh,

we heal

in community—

draped in pride

and layered unity.

Our music

marched on Washington.

Our voices

broke Jim Crow chains.

We are not

footnotes in freedom—

we are

the refrain.

So as the flames

rise and fall

in the wind,

we remain

the blueprint

they tried

to color in.

Still here.

Still rising.

Still choosing

to believe

that this land—

our land—

was meant

for all

to receive.

Bow your head.

Let your heart

be stirred

for the fallen,

the forgotten,

the never heard.

Then lift it up

like a child at play—

this is our home,

and we claim it

today.

Happy Fourth.

Happy Essence.

Happy Black,

bold,

and brilliant day.