“What songs have traveled to you recently?

The other day I woke up in the middle of the night and could not get back to sleep.  After tossing and turning for a while in bed, I knew that the only thing that could help, would be music and song.  So I got out of bed, a ritual that I have known now for many years, and I sat on my couch and got my headphones ready.  I felt in that moment that I needed some old school gospel, words and tunes that had soothed my heart and body aches in years past.  As I listened and as I sang, I began to weep.  I cried and sang for over an hour, releasing much sorrow and sadness.  There has been an overwhelm of sorrow in these past months, moving between personal losses and pain in my own family, to accompanying friends through betrayal, to walking with communities that are facing incredible oppression and challenges today.”

Lately, I’ve been sitting with the idea that our well-being is deeply tied to the well-being of our neighborhoods—not just in theory, but in our bodies, our mental health, our dreams. If my neighbors aren’t okay, then I’m not okay. That simple truth has been shaping how I think about our work at BLK South.

The neighborhood isn’t just a space where we do things—it’s the ground from which we live. It invites us into a deeper kind of solidarity, one that isn’t only project-based but life-based. It calls us not only to ask, What do we want to build here? but How do we want to live here—together?

"We had coffee at Lux this morning with our friend and intern, Justus. He asked Kendall and me how we’ve been feeling, now that our big move is just around the corner.

I was tempted to respond with the usual: ‘Good! Great! We’re excited!’ But the truth is—that’s not really how I’ve been feeling. It’s more like a heavy cloud that I can’t quite explain.

There’s a deep sadness in my body—a weight, a darkness, maybe even a hint of depression. I haven’t been able to shake it, and I’m not entirely sure where it’s coming from.”