The Light From Above

A BLACK MAN, SELF-CARE AND COVID-19

By Jude Jones

“It has not been an easy journey for me, and I am far, far from finished excommunicating this one aspect of generational trauma.”

I was 8 years old when I realized I was ugly. I was 10 when I started to hate myself and used food to soothe the feeling. I was 12 when I stopped taking my shirt off in public because I was teased about my “breasts.” I was 14 when I considered, very seriously, joining the priesthood because I figured no one would want me. I was 15 when I stopped eating lunch. I was 17 when I finally looked at the mildly emaciated, texturized, brace-less version of myself with a warped admiration.

I was 20 when I was told my arms were skinny. 21 when I started working out, giving up red meat and pork. 24 when I gave up fruit drinks. 25 when I stopped buying gallons of ice cream. 26 when I stopped eating a loaf of bread per week. 28 when I ran my first 5k.

I was 30 when I first saw the semblance of an abdominal muscle. 35 when I realized my binge eating was due to anxiety and depression. 36 when I finally shared a shirtless picture. 37 when I decided to share this.

It has not been an easy journey for me, and I am far, far from finished excommunicating this one aspect of generational trauma. I had to fall down, all the way down, into an abyss of my own lies and self deception; into my own wrists and neck; into a white-washed room filled only with fluorescent lights and the hollow echoes of screams.

And only lying face up at the bottom was I finally able to see a light. Months of therapy, medication, self-care and community love saved me. I am thankful beyond measure. But I am not finished. I have much to rebuild. I am very lucky.

Unfortunately, that makes me an exception.

“The most important thing we can give others and ourselves is not edicts about bootstraps, but expressions of unconditional love.”

I know it’s popular to blame our community’s increased rate of COVID-19 on our bad life choices. I know it’s tempting to just say “eat better and work out.” To simply offer our less better off brothers and sisters testimonials of our successes and lessons in “financial literacy.” And to be fair, there is truth that some of these supports, cynical as they may be offered, may help. But I can only imagine how the additional pressure of having a low wage, “essential” job that requires hours of public transport on top of taking care of kids would affect and effect my ability to maintain my health.

Thus, the most important thing we can give others and ourselves is not edicts about bootstraps, but expressions of unconditional love.

Yes, hold our communities accountable. Yes, hold ourselves accountable. But leadership out of this crisis is not simply about attributing accountability. It requires conducting research, testing solutions, and providing empathetic support to the people we seek to serve.

The work will be long and arduous. We already know how little Black Lives are valued when they are otherwise healthy, simply taking a jog, or shopping, or sitting in their own homes. We know the medicine is well equipped yet ill motivated to provide the support our community needs to not just survive the physical ailments, but the long term grief, depression, anxiety, and fear that too many in our community are forced to find alternate, unhealthy ways to self-medicate. We have a pandemic of racism on top of a pandemic of resourcelessness on top of the COVID pandemic. Things are bleak.

“It will take Herculean amounts of time, money, patience and heart. We will fall and stumble. We will have false starts and frustrations. But progress is possible. We can do this. I can do this.”

But sometimes, only lying face down at the bottom can we see the light from above.

It took almost 30 years for me to see and express love in myself. We will have to be resolute, patient, and caring if we seek to see our community love itself and act in kind. It will take Herculean amounts of time, money, patience and heart. We will fall and stumble. We will have false starts and frustrations. But progress is possible. We can do this. I can do this.

I was 8 years old when I realized I was ugly. I was 37 when I realized I wasn’t. It may take longer than 29 years to break the chains that bind us. But I have no doubt the work will be worth it. I see it when I look in the mirror.

I pray we will be able to look at ourselves in the same way.

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Jude Jones is a proud New Orleanian living in the District of Columbia, Jude is a professional thinker, amateur photographer, burgeoning runner and lover of Black culture, love and life. To read more from Jude, check out his medium profile.