Decolonise This XIII: (Re)Owning Black Fire
‘Like when I asked for support as my daughter was in Brazil for 4 weeks and I had no trust that she would return, by the end of that first weekend I had to deal with your anxiety that I was being like your ex and you had to look after me. It became all about you. So much so that I decided to withdraw and just deal with things myself (I’m self-sufficient after all). This is something I have done on a number of occasions, pull back and just support me because that is what I am used to. When I was ill with Covid-19 I get how worried you were that you might have it (again, all about you), but the fact you didn’t even offer any support as my partner was again hugely insulting and left a number of my friends really upset with you.’
On Saturday 20th of June 2026, I had the pleasure of taking part in the face-to-face book launch of my fifth book (yes that is where we are at now) titled Black Men, Trauma and Therapy, and edited alongside the incomparable Helen P. George. This is a book that was joy to be a part of, and it was therefore an honour to sit alongside the authors that day in Islington as we talked about each of our chapters in turn (George & Turner, 2026).
Now, of course alongside editing such a book, I had to write my own story. When I was asked what I wanted to write, I drafted a number of ideas, but none of them really took a hold as much as the one which finally ended up within those richly adorned Black pages. Today’s blog though touches upon one of the other areas which I could have written about but which makes more sense to me now, given the aspects of my life which have influenced it. And that is the Fire of the Black Man. I do not mean here just his anger, I mean more than that. As I will explore in this brief blog post.
Dream 24th June 2026:
A cartoon like battle of wills which I’ve won where I end up in a nice new cartoon house in a village street, whilst my enemy, who is female wants to look down on us from a garish black moon. To avoid looking at it, we project all sorts of jagged shapes onto the moon, hiding it, so we can make it more pleasant.
This is the dream which prompted me to write this blog. A dream which when considering the obvious racialised elements still took most of a day to explore. An interesting aspect of the dream is the moon, my black identity, which is seen as threatening and beaming down from on high to this very cartoonish, and therefore not quite realistic, village street where the neighbours speak to ‘me’ as if I am one of them. Yet, for this to be the case, for me to be one of them, then I have to put down, repress, or cast out into space, that which makes me unique, which makes me the racialised other. My black identity.
When we talk about black identity though, we have to move beyond the projected shadow of systemic whiteness to identify it. I do not therefore mean that this image is one of violence, is to be hated, is to code-switch and perform, as is expected of Blackness via the mirror of systemic whiteness as explored by authors as diverse as du Bois and hooks (Golash-Boza et al., 2019; Rabaka & Rabaka, 2007; Turner, 2018). What I am looking at here is the true meaning, the authentic, self-defined meaning of Blackness; a blackness which for me involves returning to oneself one’s fire, one’s passion, one’s creativity and drive. All the things which have been suppressed internally and externally via the dream, in order to make one’s Black male identity acceptable to those who we all live amongst.
Ultimately, I travelled to you, I took up a place in your life, I’ve met a good number of your friends, I listened and supported you, and I got out when you wanted me to as you had jobs to apply for or wanted time alone with your son. Conversely, I was lonely in my relationship, with you; you struggled to listen to me (you often text, surf or do something else unless I make you sit and listen), you talked over me constantly, you frequently mansplained my own work back at me as well.
The importance of the quotes in this blog, those which sit alongside the dream itself, are that they are from experiences I have had in relationships. Relationships where my Black identity either has not been accepted, or relationships where I have (un)consciously shadowed my own Blackness or watered it down. The point in presenting this is that with that disavowal of ones own Black Power, their comes a cost. And that is in my case the abuses which I endured in my marriage (often encouraged by courts where I had to keep quiet), the rage of former partners, and the envy of those around me when I was studying to get to where I am now. My ‘niceness’ my bloody niceness, which is a good skill to have to get along with people, has at times meant that I was invisible in the eyes of those closest to me, unwanted by those who could feel I was maybe performing, an irritant to those who would then not see me and act out their own resentments.
Yet, the beauty of accessing, nay of being Black Fire, is that it radiates out to those around us in ways which they can connect with and be inspired. Black Fire is not threatening, it is creative. Black fire is not annihilating; it brings people together. Black Fire is not an enemy; it is a friend to all. So, divesting ourselves of the structures of supremacy which for generations have seen that dynamic energy of Blackness as something to be repressed, contained, or imprisoned, sets us all on the path towards being the best of ourselves. Being ourselves. Being real.
(Final Personal Note: This blog was written in 35 minutes on the 24th of July using Black Fire!)
Black anger. I now realise its connected to my creativity, when I am fired up then I come up with ideas for stuff. The danger that I have is that I am prone to either suppressing that anger or using it in the service of those who do not deserve it. Black anger my anger is my gift to myself. It is a part of me and if y’all don’t like it then…fuck you!
References
George, H. P., & Turner, D. (Eds.). (2026). Black Men, Trauma and Therapy: Revolutionising Therapeutic Thought and Practice. PCCS Books Ltd.
Golash-Boza, T., Duenas, M. D., & Xiong, C. (2019). White Supremacy, Patriarchy, and Global Capitalism in Migration Studies. American Behavioral Scientist, 63(13), 1741–1759. https://doi.org/10.1177/0002764219842624
Rabaka, R., & Rabaka, R. (2007). The Souls of White Folk: W.E.B. Du Bois’s Critique of White Supremacy and Contributions to Critical White Studies. J Afr Am St, 11, 115. https://doi.org/10.1007/s1211100790118
Turner, D. D. L. (2018). You Shall Not Replace Us!: White Supremacy, psychotherapy and decolonisation. Journal of Critical Psychology Counselling and Psychotherapy, 18(1), 1–12.