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