The coronavirus swept the country, forcing me and almost everyone everywhere into quarantine – with shelter-at-home orders, remote learning for kindergarten-through-college classes and entire industries and small businesses shut down. I’m a creature of habit, but I’m adapting. Still, this change is different – scary, even – with health risks, uncertainty, rising death tolls and limited social contact with the outside world.
But life in lockdown has had one silver lining for the Taku family. It has forced my family – all six of us – to eat dinner together at the dining room table almost every night.
The grotesque, inhumane, evil killing of George Floyd has burst the dam of Black Patience again. Black people are appalled. Black people are pissed off. Black people are fed up. Black people are heartbroken. But most of all, Black people are tired.
I’m a huge rap fan and an avid listener, but I can’t help but cringe when I hear certain played-out bars delivered as if they never existed. They might be catchy, convenient and very accessible to the average listener, but it gets old quickly.
Before he began this performance, he announced to the audience that this would be “the last Childish Gambino tour ever.” This proclamation was a perfect preface to the kaleidoscope of lights, sound, praise-dances and screams that would comprise the religious experience he told us we were now a part of. In his own words, “this is not a concert, this is church.”