i’m comfortably agnosticostal and ain’t been a church goer in literal years, as yall know, but one thing i really appreciate about comin up in blackpentecostalism is the incessant and unrelenting hope.

before i was gifted with mariame kaba’s words, “hope is a discipline,” hope was something we practiced and shared as a part of our daily strivings.

sermons and testimonies and songs saying “you can make it” and “you will have the victory” and “don’t wait til the battle is over, shout now” and “you HAVE the victory” and that you can have “joy in sorrow but hope for tomorrow” +

and “while you’re tryna figure it out, he’s already worked it out” and “it’s already done” and “it will be alright” and “you’re never alone” and saying “tell yourself i will be victorious” +

and “you are an overcomer” and “if he said it, shall he not make it good” (that’s some good kjv for you) all affirm and underscore a need to inculcate hope, to practice it until it becomes reflexive. they just never allowed us to give up on hope.

and i can believe and attempt to practice hope as discipline precisely because it was something we cultivated as a spiritual posture.

and i keep it with me even today. hope for a better world. hope for protesting against injustice as necessary and producing joy (not happiness) and joy then being the strength to keep hoping. hope for otherwise than this.

in times like these when it feels so very heavy and absurd and difficult and sad and uncertain and cruel and unkind and gutting and violent, i choose hope. not as some saccharine euphemism that cannot sense the urgency of our critical moment.

but i choose hope as a kind of friendship, a thing that will journey with me, holding me accountable and pushing me towards more and holding me in care through it all. through it all.

bloom.