i need everyone to hear the story of colman domingo meeting his husband bc it's just the most beautiful thing i've ever heard

After Winter // Sterling A. Brown

He snuggles his fingers In the blacker loam The lean months are done with, The fat to come. 

          His eyes are set           On a brushwood-fire           But his heart is soaring           Higher and higher. Though he stands ragged An old scarecrow, This is the way His swift thoughts go, " Butter beans fo' Clara Sugar corn fo' Grace An' fo' de little feller Runnin' space. " Radishes and lettuce Eggplants and beets Turnips fo' de winter An' candied sweets.           "Homespun tobacco           Apples in de bin           Fo' smokin' an' fo' cider           When de folks draps in." He thinks with the winter His troubles are gone; Ten acres unplanted To raise dreams on.                    The lean months are done with,           The fat to come.           His hopes, winter wanderers,           Hasten home. "Butterbeans fo' Clara Sugar corn fo' Grace An' fo' de little feller Runnin' space. . . ."

"I did not think such words were bravado. Oh, I think honestly we knew no fear, We loved each other so. And thus, with you believing me, I made My prophecies, rebellious, unafraid . . . . And that was foolish, wasn’t it, my dear?"

-Sterling A. Brown

Sterling K. Brown | American Fiction (2023)

“Oh, I think honestly we knew no fear, We loved each other so.”

— “Challenge,” Sterling A. Brown (1927)

At least she’s not white again. Your wife was white. My wife was a beard, beards don’t count. 

STERLING K. BROWN as CLIFF ELLISON AMERICAN FICTION (2023) dir. Cord Jefferson

The way Sterling K. Brown and his wife, Ryan Michelle Bathe, praise Halle Bailey mid-interview is everything. 🥹 #SAGAwards

American Fiction (Cord Jefferson, 2023)

Sterling K. Brown in Honk for Jesus. Save Your Soul. (2022)

"One day, maybe you'll learn that not being able to relate to other people isn't a badge of honor."

American Fiction (2023) dir. Cord Jefferson

Sterling A. Brown // Old Lem

I talked to old Lem and old Lem said:           “They weigh the cotton           They store the corn                 We only good enough                 To work the rows;           They run the commissary           They keep the books                 We gotta be grateful                 For being cheated;           Whippersnapper clerks           Call us out of our name                 We got to say mister                 To spindling boys           They make our figgers           Turn somersets           We buck in the middle                 Say, “Thankyuh, sah.”                 They don’t come by ones                 They don’t come by twos                 But they come by tens.

          “They got the judges           They got the lawyers           They got the jury-rolls           They got the law                 They don’t come by ones           They got the sheriffs           They got the deputies                        They don’t come by twos           They got the shotguns           They got the rope                 We git the justice                 In the end                        And they come by tens.

          “Their fists stay closed           Their eyes look straight                 Our hands stay open                 Our eyes must fall                        They don’t come by ones           They got the manhood           They got the courage                        They don’t come by twos                 We got to slink around                 Hangtailed hounds.           They burn us when we dogs           They burn us when we men                        They come by tens . . .

          “I had a buddy           Six foot of man           Muscled up perfect           Game to the heart                        They don’t come by ones           Outworked and outfought           Any man or two men                        They don’t come by twos           He spoke out of turn           At the commissary           They gave him a day           To git out the county           He didn’t take it.           He said ‘Come and get me.’           They came and got him                        And they came by tens.           He stayed in the county—           He lays there dead.

                       They don’t come by ones                        They don’t come by twos                        But they come by tens.”

Sorry about the outdated language; this album is from 1954.

American Fiction (2023) | dir. Cord Jefferson