THE BLACK EXPERIENCE: Holding close what matters most

The holidays are here again, a festive time normally. This year the backdrop feels a little heavier. 

With a government shutdown dragging on, and benefits like SNAP running out for some households, the pressure to provide for loved ones has never felt more real. And in this season of giving, the greatest gift may not be something that can be purchased at your favorite store but the simple act of keeping close the people you care for the most.

In times like these, our family and friends become our strongest safety net. They are to whom  we turn when resources run low, when old wounds resurface. And yes, sometimes petty disagreements rise up out of nowhere. A misunderstood comment. A long forgotten hurt. But what if we used this moment, right now, to push past that. To squash the minor grievances, to extend the olive branch, to say “I Love You” before the season slips away?

I called my grandmother the other day just to tell her I love her. I asked her if she was aware of what’s going on. “Times are different out here, Grandma. People are going through it. Keep your head on a swivel and stay safe!” I also told her I’d make more time for her and I’m here if she needs me. That call made something shift in me. It reminded me the presence of someone who cares matters like nothing else.

And I reached out to friends, too. Some I’ve known for years. I told them all the same, “I Love You”, in various ways. “If you need me, I’m here.” Because when the world outside feels like it’s closing in, we’ll desperately need each other.

Some of our neighbors are hustling harder than ever this year. With programs ended or paused, and bills piling up, the pressure this season carries is real. There’s no shame in needing a helping hand. None. We’ve all been there. The real disgrace isn’t needing assistance, it’s judging someone who does. Because you never know what storm that person is navigating behind closed doors.

Still, for those of us who are able, maybe this season can awaken something in us. A call to action not just for ourselves, but for our families and our communities. It’s more than a checklist of gifts or a day of feasting. It’s a chance to rebuild the village. To pass down more than traditions, but values, connection, and presence.

Think about it. When the world changes again, when government supports falter or disappear, what will you have left? Will you lean on systems? Or will you have built something more reliable? Relationships, loyalty, and mutual care. Because the systems can fail but a strong family, extended or chosen, can carry you when times are hard.

I’m not saying it’s easy. Sometimes the people closest to us hurt us the most. Sometimes we’re the ones doing the hurting. But this year, let’s try something different. Let’s pause the petty. Let’s put aside the “but you did this” and the “you never did this…” for one season. Let’s invest instead in empathy, in understanding, and in showing up for one another. Because in the end, our legacy will be how we loved each other, not how we judged each other.

For families that aren’t on speaking terms, reach out. Not just for “the holidays,” but because you deserve it. That conversation might be awkward at first, it might stir up old hurtful feelings, but it could also be the door to peace you didn’t know you needed.

For parents, your kids are watching how you handle this moment. How you talk about hardship, how you hold your head up in crisis. Those small things mean everything. Your strength gives them permission to be strong.

For those of you still hustling to make ends meet, know that you are seen and you are loved. You are not invisible. Every trip you make, every sacrifice you swallow, is a testament to love. You’re doing the work so your people don’t have to. But don’t forget to pause. Breathe. Connect. Because your people are counting on you. 

And for those of us who have a bit of stability, this is your moment to shine in quiet ways. Buy groceries for a neighbor. Call someone who might feel alone. Offer time, not just things. Because what folks will remember when the lights go out and the gifts stop coming is who was there. Who answered the call. Who said, “I Love You” and meant it.

As I’ve gotten older, it is less about what I can get and more about who I can hold near. My grandmother. Friends who felt forgotten. My siblings and cousins. Even those I haven’t seen in a long time. This year I want them all to know, “I didn’t forget about you. I’m here. I care. I Love You.”

Because when the systems on which we counted fall away, the  people we love will be our most enduring foundation. Let’s build that now. Not later. 

So squash the small stuff. Dial the number you’ve avoided. Send the message you’ve been procrastinating. Sit with the discomfort for a minute, knowing you’re doing something bigger than awkwardness. You’re restoring connection. You’re healing the village. You’re setting up your future.

Be kind. Be patient. Be generous with your time. Because love is the currency that never loses value.And in these difficult times, we can all use a little extra.