A Note From the Editor:

I didn’t grow up with my father in the house. It felt strange even at an early age. Because on most of my favorite Black TV shows, there was a father in the house: The Cosby Show, Good Times, The Jeffersons, 227, Family Matters, Moesha… the list goes on and on. So as a child, I associated my father’s absence with him not loving me. In my mind, that was the only explanation.

It wasn’t until I was in college that he and I had a heart to heart. Although things didn’t work out with him and my mom, and he had another family, he loved me in the ways he knew how – letting me sit in his lap to steer his pickup on the days we hung out, grabbing hot dogs from Jimmy’s Red Hots on Grand Avenue and Pulaski Road and stopping by my granny’s house on summer days to see me. My father did what he could with what he had. And he believed that I grew into the selfless woman I am because of my mom, granny and community who raised me.

Love comes in all shapes and sizes – everything from grandma saving the spoon for us to lick after mixing up the batter for her chocolate cake to lying in bed with our best friends while drinking and listening to music. And we don’t talk about that enough.

This fall, The TRiiBE is focused on exhibiting the many facets of Black love. Let’s discuss dating among Black millennials, and why it was so much easier and fun in high school yet is so convoluted today as adults. Let’s discuss the Black family and our ever-evolving ideals about marriage, partnerships and children. Let’s also talk about building adult relationships with our parents, the healing power of friendships, and the journey of learning how to love ourselves.

To join the conversation and share your stories of Black love, tag us in your fall photos using the hashtag #BlackLoveChi.