samuel cinnamon wilson
On days like this Sam Wilson calls in Black to the Avengers and refuses to go into work.
I imagine he spends his days this week at the VA with Black vets and they sit and talk and cry praying they’ll be alive tomorrow and the next day because cops don’t really give a shit about a Black vet with PTSD.
What do y’all think the other Black characters are doing to cope today?
[non-black fans your only place in this post is to reblog and like, btw]
I feel like Luke Cage spent a long time sitting in the dark, staring at his hands. He knows he can’t save everyone, but some part of him feels sick… he can deflect bullets, but his brothers and sisters can’t. After a few hours, he kisses his wife and daughter goodbye and goes to his neighbours, knocking on doors. Checking on Black mothers who’ve lost their sons. Checking on Black kids who have to relive the horror on TV every day. Quietly talking with the Black men who aren’t expected to feel, to react. Luke Cage can’t save everyone. But he’ll damn sure be there for his people.
Misty Knight does her hair. Monica Rambeau does her hair. Anissa Pierce (for my DC peeps) does her hair.
Each of them reaches up to the crown of her head and combs through and/or retwists her hair, massaging sweet-smelling oils through it, detaching unwanted tangles, guiding it into its natural order. Each woman has been told by many different people how she shouldn’t wear her hair natural, how she should cut it, straighten it, tame it, how it would be more “practical” and “professional” and even “respectable” that way. Each of them spends some time on the tactile self-care of this obviously and proudly Black portion of her Black self, standing up straight as she does, her head high with pride, bowed to no one.
And when she’s done and dressed again, each woman goes out to fight for us, for justice, crowned with her beautiful natural hair.
I remember reading this thing once about how there were these AA women who went to speak to black people in Africa and they needed a translator and the translator explained these women were the descendants of the ones they had lost and a woman stood up and was like “We mourned the loss of MLK and Malcolm X”
And that’s what I picture T’Challa and Wakanda doing. Whatever mourning rituals they perform or practices they observe they’re mourning for our lost brothers and sisters.
Or maybe T’Challa is even threatening the United States demanding they fix this systematic murdering of black people or no more commerce between the two of them.
On days like this, the sky pours rain and hail over the cities as Storm lets out her grief. The routes for protests and gatherings are unscathed, spared from the downpour, but the rest of the sky weeps over the city. She walks the halls of the Mansion and speaks to each and every Black student, holding them when they need it, consoling them when they need it, encouraging their healthy anger and expressions of grief and fear. She worries about them all – it’s hard enough to be a mutant, but every one of them knows the targets on their back would still be there even without their mutations.
She makes tea and she and the Black students of the mansion take over the kitchen, making comfort food and tea and they reassure themselves that they’re still there, still alive, still fighting.