In light of Valentine’s Day, our MiC editors
asked us to each write a piece on love. I had
to sit and think about what, even in all of
my incredibly extensive experience and
expertise, I could possibly draw from. But as
I sat with myself in silly embarrassment and
contemplation, I realized I would be lying if I
said I hadn’t felt a tremendous amount of love
this past year and even in the last few weeks. I
have felt love even, and especially so, outside of
any kind of romantic sense of the word. I have
witnessed a love that transcends, that inspires
… a love that I am immensely grateful for in this
season.
At first, I was going to write about how
the pandemic has taught me that love, in any
and all of its forms, is essential. How it is a
grounding force whose power and necessity I
have recognized in this precise moment. How
I have realized that having even just a handful
of people, whether it be friends or family
members, to love and gingerly receive love back
from has been a crucial stake in my mental
health and a truly supernatural constant
amidst such uncertain times.
I think it goes without saying that this
past year has been extremely difficult and
frightening and uneasy. But it really has been
the loved ones surrounding me who have not
only occupied my mind with matters other
than a raging pandemic, but who have also
filled each passing day with joy, comfort and
someone or something to look forward to.
I was going to write about how, despite the
ambiguous shifting — and even expedited
drifting — that this pandemic has caused in
many of our relationships, the love you engage
in with this handful of people, whoever they
may be, is more than enough to carry you along.
But I have also realized that maybe this
love is not necessarily a given. For myself, it
has been the love from my family members,
close friends and roommates that has helped
me move forward despite such troubling
times, not just begrudgingly so but even
with an expectant joy. From gorging on Mr
Spots’ Philly cheesesteaks in the Law Quad
to talking late into the night around a warm
bonfire to clinking thermoses full of hot cocoa
on a snowy day, being able to hold onto these
loved ones so closely and safely, I now realize
is a privilege. For many others, this handful
of people might be out of arm’s reach, or
unavailable to see safely, or hurting or even
gone. And I think it would be foolish and
perhaps even entitled of me to assume that
an abundance of love is currently accessible
or guaranteed to everyone in today’s
circumstances.
What I have found this Valentine’s weekend
is that love in the era of COVID-19 is not a
given but rather a gift. And I should cherish it
as such. I should consider the love that I have
been so lucky to know during this pandemic as
something that is incredibly precious, and in
doing so appreciate my handful of loved ones in
a way that is more frequent, more intentional
and more vocal. I should call them more often,
check up on them as they do for me and wish
them good morning and good night.
For Valentine’s Day 2021, perhaps I should
simply unwrap, enjoy and reply to the love I
have received this year.
The exploitative, violent nature of the capitalist
system cultivates a culture of lovelessness. The hyper-
consumerism of late-capitalism –– with its damning
demands for domination, rugged individualism and
conformity –– permeates and toxifies our interpersonal
relationships, making way for a severe drought of
love. Simply put, love and capitalism cannot coexist.
They’re incompatible. Only by reconnecting with our
inner divinity and embracing radical love can we find
ourselves one step closer to deconstructing oppressive
structures on our path towards liberation. Liberation,
however, is just one aspect of the journey, for love is our
true destiny.
German social psychologist Erich Fromm, in his
book “The Art of Loving,” discusses the ways in which
love is the answer to the problem of human existence.
He explains that having awareness of ourselves, of our
fellow man and woman, of the future and the fact that
we will inevitably die, prompts within us an awareness
of our aloneness, or “separateness,” which is the source
of all anxiety.
In our attempts to overcome separateness, Fromm
claims that we achieve (re)union by transcending
our own life and finding at-onement (harmony). He
also describes the ways that humankind has strived
to prolong the anxiety of our separateness through
inadequate means; from the orgiastic states of drugs,
sexual desire or the accumulation of capital, we’ve seen
time and time again an overwhelming tendency to try
and alleviate our own experience of separateness.
Much like author C.S. Lewis once stated, “All that
we call human history — money, poverty, ambition,
war, prostitution, classes, empires, slavery — [is] the
long terrible story of man trying to find something
other than God which will make him happy.” Whether
we refer to it as God, higher consciousness, a higher
power or whatever, there is truth in the fact that amid
the mystery and miracle that is life, forces beyond our
own seem to be guiding our spirit in the direction of
interconnectedness, communion, fullness, wholeness
or simply put, love.
As Black feminist activist bell hooks remarks in
her book “All About Love,” “my belief that God is love,
love is everything, our true destiny — sustains me.”
The Buddha defined the spiritual path to freedom as
a practice characterized by the liberation of the heart
which is love.. And as the Biblical passage 1 John 3:14
states, “Anyone who does not know love remains in
death.” Even in a culture distinguished by immense
lovelessness, we all still seek to know love.
But how do we know love, and what separates love
from basic attraction?
Martin Luther King Jr. sought to answer these
questions in his 1967 speech “Beyond Vietnam: A Time
to Break Silence” in which he said, “When I speak of
love I am not speaking of some sentimental and weak
response. I am speaking of that force which all of the
great religions have seen as the supreme unifying
principle of life. Love is somehow the key that unlocks
the door which leads to ultimate reality. This Hindu-
Muslim-Christian-Jewish-Buddhist
belief
about
ultimate reality is beautifully summed up in the first
epistle of Saint John: ‘Let us love one another, for love
is God and everyone that loveth is born of God and
knoweth God.’”
Similarly, according to bell hooks, to know love we
must “let go of our obsession with power and domination”
which pervades Western society everywhere from our
places of employment, religious institutions, political
arenas, school systems and interpersonal relationships.
We can let go of this obsession with power and
domination by first understanding love as an active
force.
With this in mind, we can come to an understanding
of the four basic elements, according to Fromm, that
denote the active character of love, and exist in all forms
of love: care, responsibility, respect and knowledge.
Fromm cites care of love as “an active concern for
the life and growth of that which we love.” He explains
that we must labor in order to love, and that it requires
dedicated work and effort in order to enhance the life of
those we love.
He describes the responsibility of love as “being able
and ready to respond.” In order to love, we have to be able
to react to the needs of others and understand the necessity
of putting others first –– before our own needs are met.
Fromm describes respect of love as not out of fear or
awe, but “in accordance with the root of the word.” This
means that respect is predicated on the basis of freedom
and independence, or the absence of exploitation. If
we’re in accordance with someone, that means we are
aware of and conscious of their boundaries and rights
as a human being. But to do this, we must know them.
Thus, the knowledge of love, or the knowing whom
we love, is an absolute necessity. Fromm claims that
“knowledge is empty if not motivated by concern.” He
goes on to say that this knowledge has another aspect to
it, and that by knowing someone else, we come further
to uncovering the secrets inherent in the miracle of life
itself.
While we can only know ourselves to a limited extent,
knowing others allows us the affirmation and assurance
that we are not, in fact, alone in this universe. In this,
Fromm concludes that the only way to “full knowledge”
lies in the act of love.
It is only when we are taking action, or acting in
some way that we are fully alive. As Christine Valters
Paintner states, “our greatest creative act is living our
daily lives.” What better way to live our lives than with
love in our hearts and on our minds? As bell hooks
asserts in her chapter on Divine Love, “To be fully
alive is to act … I understand action to be any way that
we can co-create reality with other beings and the
Spirit. Action like a sacrament is the visible form of an
invisible spirit, an outward manifestation of inward
power.”
By being critical and examining our own actions, we
become better at outwardly putting forth this inward
power inherent in all of us. By offering care, remaining
responsible and respectful and having a desire to learn
and to know, in all our interactions, we enrich not only
others, but ourselves in the process. As we continue to
strive through our actions to be fully alive, we embark
on a lifelong trip towards our true destiny –– love.
To my talented Black Queens,
The love I have for you is indescribable. I
am so proud of all that you have accomplished.
In the music industry, you continue to set the
standard, raise the bar, dominate and make
us proud. Flo Milli’s flow is unmatched, and
Cardi always comes through with the dynamic
visuals. JT and Caresha create a lifestyle all
City Girls strive for, and Saweetie’s impeccable
style and business hustle are not to be
messed with. Megan’s rhymes and
confidence make us all turn into
Hot Girls. Nicki Minaj is the
Rap Queen, and Doja’s style
changes are so effortless.
You ladies have followed
in the footsteps of the
greats including Queen
Latifah,
Lil’
Kim,
Missy Elliot and Salt-
N-Pepa, and continue
to dominate the rap
game.
But Black women
aren’t just taking over
rap
music.
They’re
dominating R&B. Chloe x
Halle are a power team that
always comes through with the
mesmerizing harmonies. Kehlani
and Victoria Monét’s pens have me
repeating verses two or three times over before
I finish their songs, just to make sure I catch all
of their clever word plays. H.E.R. and Solange’s
moving messages produce emotions that are so
powerful, and the combination of Jhené Aiko’s
soft voice and her soothing instrumentals
ringing through my ears creates such a magical
and comforting experience. SZA’s lyrics always
make me feel like she is speaking directly
to me and describe exactly how I’m feeling.
Jazmine’s strong voice is unmatched, and her
timeless music is somehow nostalgic while also
sounding fresh over a decade later. You ladies
continue to prove that no one is touching the
power of Black women and R&B. I am loving
every millisecond of it.
You aren’t one-dimensional. No. You are
multi-talented Queens that demand your
worth be known in every aspect of society.
Lizzo isn’t stuck in one musical genre –– my
unapologetic queen can do them all. Rihanna
is killing it in beauty, fashion, music and
everything in between. Teyana Taylor is a
singer, songwriter, actress, dancer and director;
I mean, is there anything she can’t do? Beyoncé
leaves me in awe 24/7. No words can describe
her impact. With her impeccable music,
vocals, films, music videos, jaw-
dropping performances and
incomparable Ivy Park line,
she has shown that girls
have run the world for
decades. You ladies are
capable of so many
great things, and you
do it all so gracefully.
People
constantly
compare you all, and
I know it can be a lot.
The haters persistently
tell you that you don’t
belong on the pedestals
where you so firmly reside.
They
constantly
body
shame Lizzo and Megan.
They call Beyoncé untalented.
They created drama between Nicki
and Cardi to distract from their immense
talent. The disrespect Black women endure
is hard and undeserved. But you continue to
rise above the hate, shine, support one another
and succeed. There are so many more Black
women killing it; I can’t even name them all.
You’ve changed my life more than you could
ever know. The confidence boost I get every
time I open Apple Music is unreal. You make
me feel like I can accomplish anything just by
being my unapologetic self. Everything about
you is admirable, inspirational and flawless. I
love you, and feel so lucky to be alive to witness
such greatness. Keep killing it!
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Michigan in Color
Wednesday, February 24, 2021 — 5
Love: our true destiny
To my talented Black Queens
Re: Covid-love
I love you, stranger
KARIS CLARK
MiC Columnist
“The disrespect
Black women
endure is hard and
undeserved. But
you continue to
rise above the hate,
shine, and support
one another and
succeeed.”
Design by Madison Grosvenor
MARIA PATTON
MiC Columnist
YOON KIM
MiC Columnist
The woman in the pale pink raincoat pulls
me aside at TJ Maxx, and her voice drips
with honey as she drawls that she absolutely
loooves my sweater. My knee-jerk instinct is
to reply, “Thanks, I love you!”
I feel my cheeks burn, a crimson flush
washing over my face as her thin eyebrows
furrow in confusion. How bizarre must it be
to hear those words from a stranger, uttered
by anyone beyond your family, closest
friends and significant other? But though I
didn’t intend to let that slip, I mean it. I do
love her.
I love her the same way I love the stout old
man who owns the bakery on West Warren
Avenue. During an unexpected blizzard in
high school, my tire explodes on the way
to class. After skidding aimlessly for a few
minutes, rim grinding against icy concrete, I
pull into an empty parking lot to inspect the
car. As I stand shaking from the snow and
scowling from the inconvenience, I hear a
thickly-accented voice call out from behind
me, “Come inside. It’s cold.”
Moments later, I am seated adjacent from
Issam, the Palestinian bakery owner who
has managed to serve me a plate of piping hot
manaeesh only seconds after I was whisked
into the store. We share the generous
serving of bread, tugging warm tendrils of
cheese behind it with each slice pulled, and
exchange stories while I wait for my mother
to call me back. We stumble through the
conversation — with his broken English and
my underdeveloped Arabic — and I learn
about his brothers back home and his eldest
daughter with whom I share a name.
He tells me that his bakery is a family,
despite the lack of blood relations. I watch
them work, smiling warmly and cracking
jokes with every passing moment, and I
think I see it too. He shoots me a toothy grin
and slides a crumpled five-dollar bill to get
my tire replaced. As we part ways, he offers
me a can of Pepsi and a warmth that seems
to thaw the bitter cold outside. Years later, I
still owe him five dollars.
I love her the same way I love the
eccentric Jimmy John’s employee who
speaks to me in his self-proclaimed “alien
language,” an endearing string of foreign
noises
indecipherable
to
Earthlings
like me. Freshman year makes devoted
regulars of my roommate and me, and
we find ourselves stumbling into the
tiny storefront every other night without
fail, only to be greeted by our favorite
night-shift worker. Soon, this becomes
the highlight of our school year. With
every anxiety-inducing all-nighter, we
find solace in our Jimmy John’s visits.
He makes us laugh so hard we forget our
dreadful essays and exams, and soon the
fluorescently-lit shop becomes our safe
haven on campus. When he informs us
that he’s quitting, we’re inconsolable,
sobbing on the floor of our tiny room in the
residence hall.
My friend Kyra and I pour our hearts
into a farewell letter and present it to him
on his last day. An unfamiliar ‘80s pop
song croons over the speakers, and before
we know it, the three of us are swaying
back and forth in time with the music. We
continue our awkward, wordless dance
in the empty State Street sandwich shop
before reluctantly saying goodbye to our
favorite stranger, clutching our Turkey
Toms like an unspoken parting gift. My
other friend laughs at this story, asking
how we could feel such grief over someone
we hardly knew. I respond incredulously,
“Because we love him!”
I love people recklessly and often. Passing
strangers,
Zoom
classmates,
cheerful
Starbucks baristas: All great loves of my life
that have come and gone, victims of my naive
romanticization. I think it’s my favorite thing
to do. A grave mistake we make is assuming
that love is a finite, limited commodity —
that we must cling to it with unrelenting
persistence and grant it to a select few.
These reservations around love, particularly
the version we’re sold through Hallmark
movies and Billboard Top 100 songs, are
understandable. It feels malicious and
elusive. It hides away from us. It taunts the
single and lonely, and it convinces us that
we’ll never acquire its joy. I’ve come to find
that this version of love has blinded us to
the real thing entirely.
The real thing does not hide. It is not
an extraordinary gift that few are blessed
to find or receive; love is wherever you
allow it to be. It’s not always clasped in
the hand of a lover. No, sometimes it sings
along to the hum of the engine when your
friend drives you home after a long day, a
gentle hymn only heard by the two of you.
Sometimes it slips through the crack of the
door held open by a stranger. Sometimes it
is neatly folded in the pile of laundry your
mother leaves on your bed, engulfed in
the scent of fresh linen or woven into the
stories your little sister tells her friends,
the ones in which you are always the
valiant superhero. Sometimes you don’t
know you’ve planted it until you feel
the tickle of its leaves on your neck, and
sometimes you’ll never realize it was love.
But it will fill someone up and unravel
them, and they will bask in its warmth
which endures for years.
Love is wherever you find it, so if it slips
between your lips, let it curl into your lungs
and dance around like smoke, tingeing
your skin pink. If it gives up a seat on the
bus for you, nod in appreciation and rest
your weary bones. If it lands at your feet
in shards, make a mosaic and let the light
refracted shine brighter than any burning
hatred or dull indifference.
I hope you learn to find love in all
of those unexpected places: bakeries,
sandwich shops or fleeting conversations.
When you do, I hope you recognize it for
what it is and allow yourself to either hold
it close or pass it on. If you can’t find it
there, I hope you at least find it in these
words, knowing that I love you, stranger.
YASMINE SLIMANI
MiC Columnist
Design by Jessica Chiu