Collective Grief + Collective Joy: Nurturing Balance

When I first launched Move with Mercii, I tasked myself with consistency and routine. I wanted to write a post a week - maybe more - as a means of holding myself accountable.

Accountable in connection.

Accountable in discipline.

Accountable in action.

Exhaustion emerged as anticipated misogynoir oozed out of everything from a "HERstoric" Vice Presidential nomination to comment sections about violence (and WAP joy) experienced by Megan the Stallion.

Rage bubbled up inside me as I listened to speeches and sound bytes praising racists and condemning those that dared to march and publicly question/condemn their actions. People like me.

Fear followed as stories of those emboldened by these praises arm themselves and travel towards communities to open fire on people with impunity. Open fire on people like me.

Despair rolled in like storm clouds as each new headline seem to bring some new(er) dead black body to my eyes before the tears dried from the last one.

How much more can we bear? Why are we expected to bear so much? What happens when we "share" that burden of grief?

I believe it looks a lot like this past weekend with a sudden loss and long-anticipated "battle".

The loss of Chadwick Boseman sapped my energy. It feels particularly unfair. He carried a lot with him: our expectations, his chronic illness. I love Marvel movies. I love Howard University. I don't have the words yet to explain what I am feeling other than grief. Lots of denial. Some anger. Deep sadness. A bit of nothingness.

I tried logging off of social media as tales of how much everyone loved him triggered very real, very deep moments of personal loss. The shock and sadness echoed.

I am deeply appreciative of Black Girls Breathing for offering these prompts that framed and shaped the mindful intentions for the days following (and even preceding) the passing of the Black Panther:

• i acknowledge, see, and understand the ups, downs and loom of cloudiness of grief that you may be experiencing.

• i acknowledge the fact that your grief can come in multiple forms, not just physical death. and that the process of grief is yet still the same.

• i know that taking it one step at a time is the only way to walk through these dark chapters. we're only required to do our best in the moment. and sometimes our best is allowing the grief to wash over us in emotion so we can make space to also see the other emotions available to us in the moment

The best I could do in the moment at times was nothing. If no energy is available to me as a result of my tangential grief, I honored that where I could. It felt like many people were doing the same - coercing themselves to express rather than do and be sad publicly in light of public grief.

If collective grief is possible, is collective joy too possible?

I felt that possibility during the first songs of the Brandy vs Monica battle on #VerzuzTV Monday night. 90's R&B lovers closed ranks to view the hit by hit setlist featuring the award-winning singers. They played their hits, people watching had their jokes. And it seemed like we laughed as a collective for the first time in weeks. Friends logged on to IG Live and Zoom to be present virtually where they could not be present physically. We sang along to songs we thought long forgotten. We cringed at awkward black girl moments. Eyes rolled as a singer inexplicably read poems in between songs.

These shared spaces and conflicting musical philosophies - (I mean, Monica WON. how do we not agree on this?) felt as restorative as they were energizing. Looking forward to music. Dancing freely. Recalling the moments when you first heard a track. In the way grief washed over after acknowledging the passing of Chadwick Boseman, this created a space to sing, dance, move, and laugh freely. We deserve that.

In this time of isolation, let us find ways to honor our emotions together. This means that we acknowledge the emotions we enjoy and those we enjoy less. Collective grieving is as important as collective joy. This first day of September, I intend to nurture this precarious balance.

Confront the ugliness of this time.

Create space for the emotions that emerge from our collective grief.

Suspend judgment that arises when grief looks different from one person to the next.

Invite joy into daily life.

Find a way to share it with others.