As I write this I sit in a small corner in the Intensive Care Unit of a San Francisco hospital. I have two chairs that I propped together. They've served as my "bed" since Thursday. I don't have a change of clothes. I can't stand being here. Nothing here but sickly people, germs, and machines. The machines are constantly beeping. At times there's so much beeping going on that its a symphony. Only it sounds terrible. There's absolutely no harmony to it. They beep and the staff here is so numb to the sounds (or to busy) that they'll let the beeping go on and on for at least 15 minutes, or until you buzz them to come and stop it. I've resisted the urge to go and do it myself on many occasions, for fear that I might affect my "Wife's" condition negatively. And germs. Bacteria, viruses, etc, those invisible single-celled monsters that can lay you out in no time flat. They're so tiny that they can't be seen with your eyes only. But, you know that they're here, because of the hundreds of latex glove and hand sanitizer stations everywhere. I always find dried specks of blood somewhere. Usually on a wall or on the floor. "Do they carry blood borne pathogens (Google it!)?"is a question that I ask myself sometimes. And the people? what can I say? it's a hospital. When I walk to or from my "Wife's" room, I see light blue and flowery gowned people, tubed to machines. It's not a pleasant site. I've been in their situation before. In 1989, I was stabbed three times by rival gang members. Laid up in the hospital for two months. I was told that I would have died if I didn't make it to the hospital in the time that I did. People die here, for any reason that you can think of. Being a naive young Victim Of Racism, with absolutely no understanding of how the system worked at that time. I vowed that I would never come back to a hospital. Which brings me to "Black" Love. You may not be aware of the terrifying history that "Black" people have had with Western Medicine. Google terms "Bad Blood", the Tuskegee experiment, Dr. J. Marion Sims ( produced the majority of the medical information that they call Gynecology from experimenting on "Black" females), and others. see
medical apartheid for more details.
Basically, I am a saying that I am here in this got damn hospital, because my "Wife" wants me to be by her side. I am here because I love her and believe that this how a "Husband" should show his love. I could be anywhere but here. She doesn't want to be here either. The problem is that so many people aren't used to seeing this kind of love. They aren't used to seeing a "Black" male sleeping in the corner of his loved ones hospital room. They are so not used to it that when they enter the room, some of them have a surprised look on their faces. Some of them will act as though, I'm not in the room as they talked to my wife about the "Visitor" in her room. Others will look directly at me and refer to me as her "friend" and / or "boyfriend". When certain doctors start updating her on her condition, and I start asking questions, they have this look on their faces like they're thinking "who the hell does this guy think he is?" Out of all of the medical personnel whom we've encountered, in the eight years that this ordeal has been going on, I remember only two people, who referred to me as her husband.
The rest don't mind referring to me as a visitor, friend, boyfriend, or associate, by mistake.
"I'm, her husband."
"Oh, I apologize."
Why don't they take the risk of assuming that I am her husband and then apologize if I am not?
Because seeing a "Black" male attempt to be a "Husband" / "Protector" to his "Black" female "Wife" in the hospital is so unheard of that it isn't the first thing that comes to their minds.
This is why I put "Husband" and "Wife" in quotes. I agree with the code when it says that when talking about "Non-white" people in a system of White Supremacy, we should be called "Attempted Wife" or "Attempted Husband", because were under domination and subjugation, everyone knows that we're just playing house, but rarely will they admit it.
And so, "Black" Love is attempting to be a "Husband" to your "Wife", while she is in the hospital, for heart disease, and everyone assumes that you don't have the "White man's Good House Keeping Stamp of Approval" which in this case, is commonly known as (c.k.a.) a Marriage Certificate, assume first that you are a "visitor".
I am here attempting to love my mate unconditionally the best way that I know how. Sacrifice. I am sacrificing my fears. My time and my energy. My mind coping with the noises of people moaning, and the beeps from the machines. My body enduring the pain from the insanity of trying to make a bed out of two chairs, barely getting any sleep. My tired feet coming out of these oxford style shoes, after two days of no air, made me almost sick. I didn't want to be here
It's a shame that it has to be called "Black" Love and not just love. But,unfortunately, while under the system of Racism (White Supremacy), no behaviors can or cannot happen without them being associated with your skin color and / or Racial Classification. If you think that they don't, then your understanding of what Racism is, and how it works, will continue to confuse you.
The word "Black" is associated with most things negative. Applied to my brown skin by a Racist Suspect named Blumenbach, it helps to desensitize the minds of people to my mistreatment. Its affect causes me to appear to be monster and / or monstrosity in the eyes of others. But,
