A Lament for the Andre’ Leon Talley’s of The World

Cover photo of A.L.T.: A Memoir (2003) by André Leon Talley

Scripture: Zechariah 3: 3-5 (NIV)

3 Now Joshua was dressed in filthy clothes as he stood before the angel. 4 The angel said to those who were standing before him, “Take off his filthy clothes.”

Then he said to Joshua, “See, I have taken away your sin, and I will put fine garments on you.” 5 Then I said, “Put a clean turban on his head.” So they put a clean turban on his head and clothed him, while the angel of the Lord stood by.

Prayer: Oh God, you have said that we need to be clothed in our right mind but also in garments of praise, may we always remember that even as we make do, that you have the revelation that "God Created Black People and Black People Created Style." Ase and Amen (Quote from George C. Wolfe)

Song: Make Me Over by Tonex

When I was in ninth grade, my mother and my then 5 siblings were houseless, living out of a storage unit, sneaking in at night before the gate locked. We went to school dirty, and for an entire semester we were so poor, we couldn’t afford for me to have a haircut. When the Department of Social Services finally intervened by grabbing each of the three older siblings from school, we almost thought that we were headed back into the foster care system. The memories of feeling dirty and unkept have never left me. The memories of walking down hallways at both Brooklyn Cayce High School and Lexington High School, smelling like the stench of a storage unit, have never left me. My teenage years were trauma inducing because of the instability of a home environment that felt like hell.

When I read the narratives of enslaved Africans who were often confined to clothes made out of burlap and cotton, or hair unable to be appreciated because of Tignon laws, I am reminded that America has a long history of cultural violence upon the appearance and self-esteem of Black folks. Only a cursory look at the living conditions of Black folks in conversation with the vitriol heaped on Black folk for their love of adornment and style will cause you to know this is true. I literally get sick to my stomach and mad as hell every time I see a child’s locs or hair being deformed by hazardous white hands for games or graduations, the policing of durags and bonnets ad infinitum, and white folks’ commitment to calling us ghetto in both subtle and abrupt ways as they ladle out bowls of Black culture like gumbo in what we know is cultural appropriation.

It is within this context, I hear every church mother who has switched out her ugly uniform for a purple dress and a rabbit hair stole, pumps, gloves, and a hat, humming “I shall wear a crown.” Black people’s fascination and love of style is both ancestral and a response to the post-traumatic stress of denial, poverty, and the pain of exclusion. And in the Scripture reading, we see a God and God’s creation concerned about the way that Joshua has come into God’s presence. And beloved, it is God who changes Joshua’s clothes piece by piece to remind Joshua of his promise. Joshua’s physical manifestation serves as a site of promise, not as a site of oppression.

Too often, we only think about our bodies and hair as sites of oppression. We are reminded of that every time we are forced to look in our wallets and head to the cheapest stores imaginable, sometimes owned by racists who benefit from our plight, only to buy things that don’t quite fit our curves and weight. Older saints have memories of drawing their feet on paper only to be shoved a box of new ill-fitting shoes during segregation. Too many of us are followed around stores because folks have an expectation that we are expert thieves, willing to heist clothes made off the backs of poor people in other parts of the world who also can’t escape the cloak of oppression. And there are deeper questions: what about the ones who tell us the body they are in is not the body that matches their expression? What if the body they are in, they can’t control? What if the body they are in sags in places it’s not supposed to, is small in places it should be bigger, and big in places it should be smaller? How then do we understand what it means for God to clothe us?

When I look at this passage, I can’t help but to think about Andre Leon Talley - a tall, queer, portly Black man from Durham, North Carolina whose French was impeccable, and whose commitment to fashion made an indelible impression upon the world. I think about what it must have been like to be in an awkward position of understanding that there was power in the choice to have luxury. I know that he understood what it was like to be seen and unseen at the same time, to be teased and taunted in all spheres, to be told in subtle and overt ways that he was filthy. And in that moment, I, like Talley, revel in the Black church’s commitment to being Black America’s first runway. I revel in our commitment to style and swagger. I revel in our ability to be sites of promise – even when people tell us we don’t belong. And at the same time, I’m deeply disappointed that we can’t make room for children and mothers who live in storage units, and smell like outside. Instead of changing the conditions like God, we often just stop with the angel’s declaration, “oooh, aren’t they filthy...they need new clothes.” Our Black churches and communities hold both the promise and pain that Black people experience about and within their bodies. Let us resist and release this pain, and revel in the unending promise of our bodies.

Reflection Questions:

1. When was the last time I felt good about myself, my body, and what I wore?

2. What are the ways that I honor my body and sense of style as a sight of promise, rather than a sight of pain and grief?

Call To Action:

When we see each other, may we remember to treat each other as sites of promise no matter whether we have hair in place or look filthy. Creation deserves to be loved no matter how we come. Creation deserves to be loved whether we are runway ready or houseless. Creation is designed to be loved especially when we are in places called sanctuary. Creation needs respect, not respectability. Let us handle ourselves and each other with care this day, and always.

About the Author

Rev. Sean Palmer lives at the intersection of being a Black Cultural Curator and a small church pastor.

Stay connected to Sean:

FB: sean.palmer.73

Website: www.chestnutstreetpcusa.com

These Black Lent devotionals were originally curated by IG: goodneighbormovement.