Why are we here? The answer to that question depends on who you are and what you believe. Many people believe that we’re here to reflect the glory of God and praise His creation; there are a lot of different ways to do that, but if it leads you to a more positive and compassionate life that’s a good thing. Others believe that there isn’t a purpose to life; we’re here to survive long enough to pass on our genes, make the human race stronger in the next generation, and that’s it. Again — if it leads you to a more positive and compassionate life, more power to you.
Personally, I believe there’s no inherent purpose to life, no grand design. But far from being a depressing realization, I find it’s actually liberating and exciting. Because that means we get to make our own, tailor-made to our temperament and experience. We can decide how we will spend our lives, what we want to leave behind as our legacy, and what we’ll be remembered for. The objective purpose of life is to find our own purpose, and once having done that, work towards it to the best of our ability.
The principle we’re focusing on today, the fifth day of Kwanzaa, is Nia or Purpose. According to Dr. Maulana Karenga, this means “to make our collective vocation the building and developing of our community in order to restore our people to their traditional greatness.” That’s a concept I can get behind, actually — how awesome would it be to lift African civilization and the African diaspora to great renown? How great would it be for our culture to be known the world over as the most advanced, responsible and utopian in human history? The more I think about it, the more I would love to see more stories featuring Black Panther’s Wakanda — an Afrocentric culture that has dedicated itself to achieving as much as possible.
We don’t have many stories like that, in fiction or in real life. Positive steps towards uplifting our communities aren’t reported very often; peaceful protests, community clean-up initiatives, organized benefits don’t get the same kind of air time that disruptive things do. In America, stories featuring black people far too often revolve around death and poverty. In Africa, all we know of the continent is sickness, war, famine and death. We think of it as the continent of the Four Horsemen, a hellish landscape where there is never enough to eat and mortality is a daily fact of life.
Chimamana Ngozi Adichie tells us about the danger of a single story here. She writes about an Africa most people in the West never see, and encourages us to think about the people and the continent in a more holistic way. Yes, there are warlords and corruption, famine and sickness, but there are also people who are doing everything they can to make their world better. There are thinkers and creative people; friendly, hard-working dreamers; people who are proud of their community, tribe, country and continent. Africa is an immense place. It is diverse, wonderful, and so much more than most of us know.
The purpose I’ve found in life is to encourage people to become more connected with the world around them, more accepting of their fellow human beings, more comfortable with change and differences. What I want more than anything is to initiate and continue dialogues that allow us to know each other better, foster empathy that lets us step outside of our own experience to genuinely see things from another perspective. I want to understand you. And I want you to understand people like me. Humanity is a social species, and we are at our best when we come together for a common purpose.
So much about the black experience — and the human experience — is about alienation and disenfranchisement. The most dangerous thing I see about our future is giving ourselves over to apathy and disconnection, this idea that “as long as I’ve got mine, that’s all that matters.” We do not exist alone. We exist inextricably connected to an immense and complicated framework of socio-political, environmental and interpersonal factors. We are affected by the actions of our fellow man. Everything we do affects someone else.
A lot of us who have grown up being bullied or ostracized internalize the idea that we don’t matter. We grow up really believing we’re alone, and that it’s entirely possible no one would miss us if we disappeared. We think that the consequences of our actions, such as they are, are ours alone and no one else has to worry about them. We feel so powerless and small, and can’t possibly understand how each and every one of us has the power to shape our world — and the responsibility to use that power wisely.
My purpose is to use that power to the most positive end I can manage. I’m still learning the full shape and force of it, and I’m still learning the limits of it. I still need to learn how to use it responsibly. But that’s the thrust of my existence; I have my entire life to learn this. And I’m genuinely excited to do that.
What’s your purpose? How are you fulfilling it? What are you doing to contribute to the restoration of greatness for the human race? This isn’t a judgement question: I really want to know. What do you think about your purpose?
Have a solid Kwanzaa, everyone. I’ve been sick for the past few days, but developing a writing habit in the mornings has been something I very much look forward to. I’ll check in with all of you tomorrow.