Sermon of the MatriarK 

i. Prelude, ii: Testify, iii. After the Rainbow

Artists: W4RP Trio + LiKWUiD, background vocals Emergence Collective 

Composers: Josh Henderson, Mikael Darmanie, Faybeo’n Mickens

I wrote the poem and lyrics for Sermon over several months of reflection and revelation. Mikael and Josh had shared a few keywords for how they wanted the piece to feel, which I jotted down and repeated them until something started to click. I asked myself: what do we think of when we consider women, and what can result when we consider women through  an intersectional lens? What does it mean to be a Black woman? I revisited the writings of bell hooks and Audre Lorde, listened to podcasts, and tried yet another time to read the Bible cover to cover. I considered the idea of the “strong Black woman,” and, by that token, the “Black woman savior” too busy saving the world to acknowledge 

that she, too, needs saving once in a while. Then I sat with “Black girl magic,” wondering how I could expand on the notion. Black women are considered mothers, nurturers, protectors ~ but who nurtures and protects us? Could our superpower also be our greatest weakness? With these questions, I wrote the work’s first half. 

A key influence on the text was a conversation I’d overheard involving a colleague whose aunt had brought her husband to a family outing. Though he was physically abusive and disliked by the family, they had been married for years. Instead of scolding the husband, the colleague went on to explain how much he appreciated his aunt because she “never complained.” This was a sort of phrase I’d heard far too often throughout my life: “she never complained,” “she stayed with him,” “she stuck by his side.” I felt the blood boiling from my neck to the top of my head. Before my mouth could say something that I couldn’t retract, I excused myself from the conversation.

Why do we measure women by how much we are able to take without asking for help or retaliating for years of abuse, neglect, or invisibility? Despite our suffering, we go on. We continue to do all of the above and still move forward, lifting as we climb.

That’s what the second part is about: hope.

I see this song is a journey back in time: the first half of this metered poem as representative of the adult me, and the second half as representative of my inner child, but healed.  

What you wanna be when you grow up? An ancestor? A healer? A blesser? A rebel? Do you want to burn it down or build it up? OR BOTH?

The bridge is itself a bridge between past and the present. I was thinking about my childhood summers in Georgetown, South Carolina, and I  was also thinking about creating allusions to Black culture across the diaspora.

I was also channeling my Aunt Lynn, a pastor, and my Aunt Johnnie Mae, a minister.

Writing this song allowed me to express that which I was not emotionally capable of expressing in 20 years prior as an emcee. I felt honored to lay my voice within this beautifully mastered work. Thanks, fellas.

Before I go, I must clarify a few lines:

Me and W4RP Quad form like a hexagon Take ’em to Mary CHURCH Terrell, that’s the Hex I’m on.

Perhaps I seem to have miscounted how many we are in this ensemble. But my math is based on the Bible verse Matthew 18:20.

~ LiKWUiD