Thank you Nikki, Thank you Quincy

"It is called education because it is learned."

I was honestly and truly unprepared for the loss of both Quincy Jones and Nikki Giovanni — much less in such quick succession. For weeks I’ve been gutted, bringing up Quincy Jones like an old lover, an old friend. I was softened in my grief.

This week, losing Nikki, my grief felt as if it was placed into a kiln.

I know in my heart there is no shortage of Black genius, but I also know in my bones that there is a crisis in Black culture. What many don’t seem to understand is: Quincy held us. Nikki held us. And yet, too many of my contemporaries and acquaintances play in the face of our ancestors dreams, our shared heritage and the promises we make to the unborn. What responsibilities do we have to take care of ourselves… to having both common sense and common decency? Y’all might have been raised to act a fool… but that ain’t no excuse to misbehave in the master’s house.

We have to hold harder. We have to stop choosing euthanasia over accountability. We have to be stopped. We have to respect that “if we don’t like the world we are living in [we must] change it” and “if we can’t change it, we can [and must] change ourselves.” I want to change. I want evolution. I want us to change each other with swift and solid interdependence. Don’t forget that we belong to each other.

In some personal family lore, my grandma Barbara was one of Giovanni’s typists. See text below from my Auntie Debbie. My grandma (and my aunt) are both two of many women in my lineage who were proximate to our heroes and, on their own merit, are my heroes. This touch is invaluable. It’s a reminder that in each engagement we have a choice about what kind of ancestor we become.

To close: here is this joyous mix dedicated to Quincy and all that he gave us. May their memories be a wake up call.