Reflections on Love & Black Girl Friendship

As I sit at my desk trying to write, the noise from downstairs crowds out my thoughts and spooks every bright idea before it fully forms in my mind. I'm supposed to be writing about Love, but my three-year-old daughter is belting out "Into the Unknown" (From Frozen 2) so fervently that I'm beginning to sing it now, too. And it occurs to me that maybe that's how Love is. It permeates. It catches, and if you get close enough, for long enough, to someone else's Love, you might feel it, too. It's a feeling as immense and infectious as the joy I hear in the voice of my boisterous toddler.

Or…that could be me reaching. Because, really, Love is too big to condense onto a page. Anything I could say feels like reducing the universe to a single star. Writers, scholars, and scientists have provided innumerable explanations of Love, yet it still feels undefinable. I realize it's impossible for me to fully encapsulate what Love is—even if just from my perspective and lived experience. And, more importantly, it's not necessary. How Love shows up in our daily lives and relationships, with self, with family, or, in this case, with friends, feels like a more worthy reflection.

Writer Souleika Jaouad beautifully illustrates this point in her recent entry in the Isolation Journals newsletter. Reflecting on a year post-cancer relapse and recovery, she recalls a list she wrote while in the throes of treatment. In the list, she acknowledges a few of the objects and people she feels love for in those moments.

I felt deeply inspired by this unique entry into the canon of writings on Love. So, instead of trying to give my take on what or how Love is, I offer this reflection on something I have so much Love for — My Black Girl Friendships. Because Love for me is acted upon, given, and reciprocated. And because over the years, my girlfriends, more than anyone else, have been a constant source. I want to name my Love:

For the girlfriend who bought the concert tickets before I sent the money because we have to see Usher. And we have to see him together. Because the nostalgia ain't the same unless you're singing with your oldest girlfriends. Because "I can't come" isn't an option.

For the girlfriends who planned the extravagant girls' trip and said, "You better be there." Because the promise of an enduring black girl friendship reaffirmed through periodic retreats, is sometimes all that keeps us going when the world gets heavy on our backs.

For the girlfriend who always sees the best for me when my vision gets short-sighted and I can't see a way forward. Because all we need is someone to say, "You got this, and I'm here to help." Because Love from black women to black women is life-sustaining.

For the girlfriends I can't keep up with because they're busy getting degrees, traveling the world, mothering, caretaking, writing books, radically resting, and trying to love themselves better before they give any more away.

For all the black women writers and creators who are my friends in my head. Because they remind me that being is enough. That our voices are important. That we have stories to tell and stories that need to be heard. That our words can change the world.

For Isadora, my littlest girlfriend, singing downstairs. Because she gave my Love a new purpose. Because she is her best thing, and I won't let her forget it.

I have so much Love for Black Girl Friendships. Our flowers are most beautiful when we bloom together.