If you haven’t read Part One, don’t worry you won’t have to. I ask myself what is sacred often, not consciously but more often than I should. I believe that the rains that fall in Southern California are sacred, when they do fall. I believe that every parent should treat their child as if they were sacred, and not just when they are born. I believe that there are still sacred places in the world but I don’t want to find them because if I do somebody else will find it also and f@ck it up. I believe that no one can tell me what is and what isn’t sacred. However now at this point in my life, I’m at a lost for words to find what is truly sacred to us all.

I used to believe that love was sacred, however if and when it truly is or was I would not have done some of the things I’ve done to those I loved, and they would not have done some of the things to me, if they loved me. Now don’t get me wrong am I saying that love can’t be sacred, I would like to believe that it still can. But if what is considered to be sacred can be malleable, arbitrary, or ephemeral, can it truly be sacred. In other words can something that is sacred be taken away, redefined, or neglected?

If you grew up Black in America chances are what you thought of or as sacred was defined by a white man. And why you would believe in the god of the white man? The same god that enslaved your ancestors would be the last god to have your sacred interest at heart. White men have always been telling Black people what is and what isn’t sacred, and they have fought for the right to do so into perpetuity. I’m not sure how many Black people burned crosses, but there was a time in the south when white men did. There is nothing that says white privilege more than burning a cross and no one of historical significance, that I know of, calling it blasphemy. White men were willing to burn crosses in order to terrorize Black people as if to say even the god that we gave you Black People, the god that you believe in will not protect you from our wrath, and we will burn crosses to prove it. I can not imagine a Black Christian burning a cross but I can imagine a devil doing so.

I believe that knowledge may be one of the last harbors of sacredness and now we are are at risk of that being burned like crosses were once in the south. I’m not sure how close we are to book burnings in the public square or the censorship of Blog’s like mine, (I wish my blog was that popular). What I do know is that if we allow people like Ron DeSantis to delegate what could or should be read, or how Disney should do business in Florida or in America for that matter, then we will know a fascism that will suck the blood out of the American ideal. The implication being that Ron DeSantis and those like him in the future will tell you what is sacred, what is to be read, what is to be taught, and none of those things can ever threaten what is truly sacred to men like Ron DeSantis, the white male.

Now of course this is a gross generalization, I do not believe that every white man believes that he is sacred or should be treated as such, however there is a part of me that believes that American propaganda has done all the best to sanctify the white male. I’ve mentioned this in a past post but I think that it needs to be repeated, there were those in the not to distant past that thought John Wayne was a hero and Muhammad Ali was not. John Wayne fought no real wars, fought no real men, and avoided war, for physical reasons, not because he was a conscientious objector. So no John Wayne was not a hero but he was an actor. White men can become American heroes by being just an actor. Well maybe not as much now as it was then, and maybe that is what Trump is referring to by Making America Great Again. So what would Trump or DeSantis tell you what is sacred when asked? All evidence to me says that they themselves are before anything else, still I would like them to be asked.

So now as an American, as a Black American I have found myself asking myself what is sacred, again.Would it be sacred for my child or children to feel free to read whatever they wanted to? Would it be sacred not to have to give my child or children”the talk”? Would it be sacred for my child or children to be able to love who they wanted to or walk down the street without feeling a police threat? For most white children in America all those things mentioned above are taken for granted there’s nothing sacred about them, that’s just a Monday. Sure I can project my thoughts and feelings onto something and call it or consider it sacred, or at least treat it as such. This is a very unique human ability. But as a collective, as a people what do we think is or what do we consider sacred in America? Is it the gun, the Super Bowl, McDonald’s, maybe I mean they all seem to be more revered than American democracy is at this moment.

I began this post telling you what I thought of as, or considered to be sacred, and maybe that is where we are as a people, not that anyone should dictate what is and what isn’t sacred. And as difficult as this has been for me to truly define what is sacred for us, sacred for Americans, maybe this milieu that we are now living in will open us up to redefine what is sacred. If you are one of the handful of people that read this Blog (I Love You), and you can tell me what is truly sacred I look forward to hearing from you. However now it feels as if we are living in times that are absent of the sacred, and now we have the opportunity to redefine that. Not by banning books, or calling everything that is about, for, and of Black People Woke. But by reinitiating a little gratitude, some critical thinking, and an end to fear. If fear dictates what is sacred then sacrifices will be required. Sacrifices of freedom, consciousness, and maybe even person. We do not need that. We need individuals taking moments to define what is sacred for them, not to get likes, clicks, or followers but to be grateful and appreciative of some of things we have in common, with each other and with the earth.

There must be something strangely sacred in salt. It is in our tears and in the sea- Kahil Gibran