In Bed with Solange

All my niggas in the whole wide world

play this song and sing it on your terms…


In a moment of much needed intimacy, my husband laid in bed with me last weekend and held me while listening to Solanges’s “A Seat at the Table” the only album I’ve been listening to on repeat since it was released. For me, good music always shows up at the right time, for healing, for protest,  rejoicing, reflection, meditation, mourning and more.

For me, it came at a time when a recent personal challenge had me folding in on myself and all I could do was rest and wait. I played “A Seat at the Table” on my iphone for the first time while under covers and it seeped in through the cracks of my sadness like water. It gently elevated my mood into a lighter but stronger place. I couldn’t deny it’s bold and reflective Black and feminine message and the authentic space it has carved out alongside all the incredible unapologetic Blackness that’s been popping off everywhere lately, in film with “Birth of a Nation” in TV with “Queen Sugar,” “Atlanta” and more.

By the time my husband got on the bed with me I had probably listened to it several times and was still hearing new things, feeling new things. I laid up under him while he squeezed me and held me and we actually listened to the whole album together, singing and smiling, laughing and playing footsie to the beat with a candle burning. LOL!

I cherished every minute. I mean it was exactly what I needed in life. My man, my new favorite album and a sense of joy, promise and divine connection, despite everything.

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