Sunday, June 03, 2007
Where my friends at when I need to spit (as in kick it, as in talk, as in share some thoughts)!
So as I'm riding on the subway in Philly coming from another awesome dance show of the school where I teach, I become overwhelmed with this feeling of happiness. And where might this feeling of joy have come from you ask? From being black y'all, yes it was the craziest thing ever. I often go through phases where I love to people watch but Saturday night my observation experience was taken to another level.
I'm sitting there on the train and I look around me and I see nothing but black people (a little different from my train experiences in Manhattan). When the train opens the doors at the "Wyoming" stop a beautiful older black couple (maybe in their 40s), about 3-4 young guys and two young women in their mid twenties get on the train. I sit there and I just admire all that is going on around me. The couple sit there and they discuss what happened at a birthday party earlier, they're not energetic or bubbly, they don't make much eye contact. Their conversation is very relaxed and smooth almost soulful. Every now and then one of them will smile or give a touch on the knee or hand. The young guys clearly look like they've either partied or pre-partied cause they lookin right, fresh jeans, fresh sneaks and fresh highs. They don't talk to each other they just sit back in the cut and observe as I'm doing on this hot Saturday night. The two young women enthusiastically engage in a conversation about a religion class (not really noticing their volume)they're taking at the university, and how stupid it is in comparison to church on Sunday.
Later as the train door opens at the "Allegheny" stop a short very charismatic brother walks into the center of the train and begins speaking to the passengers about a homeless organization that he's working for that collects donations to feed and clothe the needy. This man, even though I had a hard time understanding why he was out making this speech at damn near 11 o clock at night, sounded like velvet, his words bounced off the train walls and fell upon my ears with so much grace, poise and magnetism. He had a way of making his sentences sound like versus to a song, man I love black people. No one taught him that, he wasn't coached I'm sure, he just knows that he needs to be heard. Two guys sitting next to me are covered in dust and paint, holding on to tools, similar to the young dudes they never acknowledge each other but as one gets up to leave he says to the other "alright brother see you tomorrow, have a good one."
Just as I'm about to exit the train I look back one more time at the train full of Black folks. Most of them looked tired, very hard, like they've been through a lot within their time here, but despite it all I saw a sense of purpose in their gazes and I felt something very familial within their energy. And that feeling right there made me overjoyed and oh so happy to be Black.
I'm sitting there on the train and I look around me and I see nothing but black people (a little different from my train experiences in Manhattan). When the train opens the doors at the "Wyoming" stop a beautiful older black couple (maybe in their 40s), about 3-4 young guys and two young women in their mid twenties get on the train. I sit there and I just admire all that is going on around me. The couple sit there and they discuss what happened at a birthday party earlier, they're not energetic or bubbly, they don't make much eye contact. Their conversation is very relaxed and smooth almost soulful. Every now and then one of them will smile or give a touch on the knee or hand. The young guys clearly look like they've either partied or pre-partied cause they lookin right, fresh jeans, fresh sneaks and fresh highs. They don't talk to each other they just sit back in the cut and observe as I'm doing on this hot Saturday night. The two young women enthusiastically engage in a conversation about a religion class (not really noticing their volume)they're taking at the university, and how stupid it is in comparison to church on Sunday.
Later as the train door opens at the "Allegheny" stop a short very charismatic brother walks into the center of the train and begins speaking to the passengers about a homeless organization that he's working for that collects donations to feed and clothe the needy. This man, even though I had a hard time understanding why he was out making this speech at damn near 11 o clock at night, sounded like velvet, his words bounced off the train walls and fell upon my ears with so much grace, poise and magnetism. He had a way of making his sentences sound like versus to a song, man I love black people. No one taught him that, he wasn't coached I'm sure, he just knows that he needs to be heard. Two guys sitting next to me are covered in dust and paint, holding on to tools, similar to the young dudes they never acknowledge each other but as one gets up to leave he says to the other "alright brother see you tomorrow, have a good one."
Just as I'm about to exit the train I look back one more time at the train full of Black folks. Most of them looked tired, very hard, like they've been through a lot within their time here, but despite it all I saw a sense of purpose in their gazes and I felt something very familial within their energy. And that feeling right there made me overjoyed and oh so happy to be Black.
