To speak of Black love is not just to speak of romance. It's to speak of history, of survival, and of everything that has been denied to us throughout time. For Black people, love has never been simple. Amidst silences, symbolic and affective violence, we learn early on to distrust affection, to protect ourselves even before feeling it.
This text is born from this sensitive place. From the recognition that fear doesn't arise from nothing; it is taught, inherited, and reinforced. Fear of surrendering, of being rejected, of not being enough. Fear of loving and, above all, of being loved.
“Who's Afraid of Black Love?” is not an accusation, it's an invitation. An invitation to reflection, to care, and to courage. Courage to face our wounds, to question imposed narratives, and to claim the right to live more just, light, and whole relationships.
Because Black love exists. It resists, heals, and flourishes. And perhaps the greatest revolutionary act is precisely this: allowing oneself to love without apologizing for who one is.
