One of my favorite poems from my youth is the Langston Hughes classic that reads:

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore–
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over–
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?

I remember being introduced to it in high school (unfortunately, growing up on military bases both abroad and domestically we didn’t encounter a lot of black authors). It was around the same time that I was introduced to another black writer, Ralph Waldo Ellison and his book Invisible Man. For a skinny black boy who had just moved to South Carolina, who felt out of place as nearly the only black kid in all my honors and AP classes, both pieces of writing spoke to me.

A Dream Deferred spoke to my imagination. Despite the challenges I faced at the time, somehow I knew that life had more to offer. I knew God had a purpose for my life. In fact, I dreamed about it everyday. I dreamed the life that I live right now, with a loving family, wonderful partner, doing work that mattered to help positively change the world. To me the poem was a call to action, and for years I lived life as if I were in a hurry to achieve my dreams.

Invisible Man spoke to my pain. When I first moved to South Carolina, though it was the home of both of my parents and our extended family, it didn’t welcome me. The black kids didn’t know what to do with me because I was unapologetically smart, and for many of them, perhaps no one had told them they could be the same. The white kids didn’t know what to do with me because I wasn’t one of them. Golden Oreo might have been the most telling nickname they gave me, indicating I was white on the inside but still a light skinned n*gga on the outside. To be clear, they still called me that too.

But by the end of my high school experience I knew a few things to be true about the world. First, there will always be people and places where you don’t fit in. I just needed to find my people, and my places. Second, dreams are like a spark, in order to turn into a full flame they need the right conditions to thrive.

So I left my small town, with all of my scars and most of my family left behind in pursuit of my dreams. And here’s what I found: the pursuit of a dream (i.e. the journey) is just as important as the destination, and it helps to have fellow dreamers. I’m so thankful to work with fellow dreamers, to do life with people who are pursuing their dreams. I’m so grateful my wife and I after twenty years and going, are still dreaming about the future together.

I think about this a lot now as a father. I want my girls to find their people and their places, but also to find fellow dreamers. I also want them to know that they don’t have to live life in a hurry. Just take a single step everyday and they’ll get there. And I’ll be there, cheering them along every step of the way.

SDW3