Hello Michael Crumpler!

It’s not just that The Blackyard Collective helped me find my voice, but also that this group of Black queer folks helped me believe my voice mattered, and gave me the confidence to share my voice with others. I have been sitting with profound gratitude since the 2023  Blackyard Collective Fall Retreat in Provincetown, MA, reflecting on how my life has changed since connecting with these sober friends, who have now become family. 

I had been sober for about six years when we had our first brunch of a few Black queer folks in recovery. I was nervous; we were all nervous. It’s the paradox of life that sometimes the thing we most want can be the thing we most fear. Connection. Being seen. Being heard. Allowing ourselves to be seen and heard. Trusting that I am enough just as I am, worthy of being loved. 

Those were things I dreamed of, but was afraid of making a reality. What if I tried to open up and connect, for the first time in my life and it wasn’t successful? Did I even know how to be real, after a lifetime of hiding my true feelings? What did I have then? I brought all of that into that first brunch: a lot of fears. What I took away was the knowledge that I wasn’t alone in my fears. 

The struggle with internalized racism wasn’t just mine. The rage that I sometimes felt but didn’t know how to express for fear of being seen as The Angry Black wasn’t just mine. Others understood that the drugs made me feel good, but they also helped me not feel.I was able to escape into a world where I didn’t feel my Black queer existence was a problem. 

As the monthly brunches grew, so did my voice. I started talking about things I’d had shame about, including my abandoned education, and my former dreams of being a writer. I had always held these things back, fearing how I’d be judged. Instead, I’d spent a lifetime with a mask, which was now being lowered.

The group encouraged me, saying my voice and how I saw the world was important. I should go back to school, they told me. I wanted to go back into the background. “ My time has passed,” I told them, but they wouldn’t let me make myself small. 

I applied to college and I got in, with a full scholarship. For the next two and a half years I went to school during the day, and waited tables at night, wanting to give up. I didn’t. They wouldn’t let me. They held me up.

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