Running Naked & Black

I have been saying I’m going to do this for years.

A blog. A podcast. Something with my writing, my musical discoveries, my mouth. I have announced it to myself so many times that announcing it started to feel like an accomplishment. There. Said I was going to do it. Very productive of me.

Meanwhile, I kept waiting for work to settle down. Once things felt stable in my career, I could give some attention to everything outside it. I’m a software engineer; there was always another problem to solve, and I kept giving it the time I had meant to keep for myself.

Now it’s late September. Again with the plans.

So … here I am.

I would like to tell you I’m writing purely for the love of language and the good of other people. I do love language. I do hope something I write makes somebody feel less alone, or think about something they hadn’t considered. But if I’m going to call this Running Naked & Black, I probably ought to admit the other part.

I don’t want to be forgotten.

I don’t want the fullest account of me to be my résumé, or the last random thing I posted on TikTok. The silly things are me, too; I posted them. I just have more to say.

Even writing that, I can hear myself asking why I think what I have to say is so important. Who am I to want a whole little corner of the internet? What am I offering? What will someone gain from reading it? Apparently enjoying writing wasn’t going to be enough; I needed to establish its benefit to humanity before I could begin.

But why the fuck not?

I like to write.

I’d like to find out what happens when I let that be a reason.

The name is about exposure. I can share something intimate and then wonder why on earth I have allowed people to know that about me. I want to be understood; I am not always comfortable with the part where somebody has to look.

For much of my life, being acceptable has taken up a great deal of my attention. In school, at work, in rooms where I was one of very few Black people, I learned to watch what the room seemed to want. Bend a little. Explain a little. Be some version of good that whoever was watching would recognize.

I am trying to get better acquainted with what I want.

That includes deciding what I share. Everybody does not need every detail. I want this to be a place you come to because you’re interested, where you can choose what to read and what to leave alone. There will be things I leave alone, too.

Some of the writing will be about being a Black woman. All of it will be written by one. I’m also Gullah Geechee, curious about the history of the places where I live, and overdue for learning more of it. There are people who came before me whose stories I want to know.

And there is music. There has to be music.

I want to share what I’m discovering, get back to the theater, see some art, spend time by the water. I love the smell of salt water. I want to enjoy getting dressed and then actually go somewhere in the clothes. Bonnie, my dog, and I have some exploring to do.

Which brings me to another reason for writing: I need something to write about. It’s difficult to document myself getting a life if I continue to conduct the whole thing from my apartment.

I love my home. And yes, an apartment is a home. I have thoughts about people who feel the need to correct that.

There will be room for those thoughts as well.

Everything doesn’t have to be profound, Sabrina Danielle. Sometimes I might just have heard a song I think you should hear.

Other times, I will be trying to understand something that still hurts, or something I keep doing even though I know better. You may recognize it. You may disagree. I would like to hear that, too.

If you don’t have a life like I don’t have a life, we can get a life together.

If you do have a life, you’re still welcome here.

At least I can check “get started” off the list.