The point is that there is not a spiritual weakness to grieve and you don't get a prize for being the strong as black person in the room.

You know, some folks say grief lives in the marrow of black bones, and the fertile soil bathed in black blood and gaps of black futures beckoning for breath. But listen closer,

and we'll hear the ring shouts where ancestors turn shackles into rhythms. We can see the quilts that

stitched our coated cry. The jazz funerals where sorrow became a second-line strut. From the hush

harbors of enslaved believers humming freedom into spirituals to the port side vigils with southern

black women braided rage in the Psalms. Our grief has always been a language, a ledger, a lifeline.

I'm Darren with Push Black, and you're locked into Black History Year.

Today, we're sitting down with Dr. Leslie T. Grover,

award-winning author, near the architect, and founder of Assisi House, to dissect the unspoken

power of Black Greep as a compass for Black liberation.

From the sacred rage of the salt eaters to the defined joy of New Orleans second-line

funerals, Dr. Grover unravels how ancestral trauma pulses in our cells, while laughter

is revolutionary medicine, and why whiteness fears our

lamentations. We'll confront the ghost of Reconstruction's unkept promises, dissect the violence

of post-traumatic slave syndrome rhetoric, and exposed a performative hypocrisy of kenthe-clad

politicians. But again, this ain't just about pain.

It's about power, because Dr. Grover's got the receipts and diagnoses

detailing how even trap music can become a song,

how crowning ceremonies defy a racher,

and why holding sacred space is our birthright.

Let's get into it.

Thank you. Is our birthright? Let's get into it. I don't know if this is just something that's woo-woo or gobbledygook or whatnot, but, you know,

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