Circa March 2017, my brother got married. Of course, everyone looked stunning. My friends and family were looking sharp, as usual. Not to mention the bride. She was glowing. I almost did not recognize her.
Then there was me… the girl who had on an unconventional attire. I wore black to my brother’s wedding.
It was strange enough that I wore heels and a dress. If I had my way, at the time I would have worn flip-flops, a tee, and a jeans skirt for comfort purposes. However, I cared enough about the event. It was my brother’s big day and I did not want to ruin it for him or his bride.
I decided to “conform” for a few hours because the “bio-bro” and I have a pretty close relationship. We bounce ideas off each other, give each other advice, do music together, and more. We both got baptized at the same time. In fact, people still ask me how he is or where he is if we are not in the same physical location.
Therefore, it was no surprise to me when the pictures were circulated on social media, persons were flabbergasted at what I wore. It was not that the dress was indecent, but black in Jamaican culture is usually worn at funerals, not weddings. “Are you mourning?” they asked. Wearing a black dress seemed odd to many, but to my brother, it was an embodiment of who I am and what I have been through. He understood that. His bride understood it also.
What people outside of my inner circle do not know is that I fell ill in January of that year. It was a difficult process for me and my family. It was so bad that I was unresponsive to medication. I struggled to move without getting tired. I could not laugh without experiencing physical pain. I even had difficulty singing. Singing was important at the time because I was supposed to be a soloist for the wedding. This was a conundrum.
During the recovery process, I had to go dress shopping with my mother. We had to go to a store where I could get what I needed and get out without pushing my body to the limit. After a few near misses and struggles with my health, I got the dress – the black dress, and I loved it. It looked great on me. Plus, I love absolutely black clothes. It did not matter to me what anyone wanted to say about my attire. As long as the bride and groom understood and I was comfortable, I was good.
People argue that black is not a colour. To me, it is a magnificent one at that. It represents strength, power, and beauty. Black can virtually be worn with any other colour. It can stand alone and still look good. It suits any and every occasion, including my brother’s wedding.
I went to the wedding and sang the song for the first time in months. I must admit, I struggled. There were moments when it felt like breath was escaping my lungs. I remember clenching the podium because I was in so much pain. With every note I belted, I got weaker. However, through God, I held on. I pushed through. I made it. I did my best and my brother and his wife were pleased. Their guests were throtoughly entertained as well. Reflecting on that time, I am grateful I did it. I am glad I did not let misunderstandings, poor perceptions and people-pleasing stop me from celebrating people I love dearly. These things can get in the way and make you look foolish in the end. If I coped out, I would have been the one left with regrets. I am elated that I did my way of “paying back” the lovely couple, especially since they sacrificially supported me when I was sick. And I would have done it again, wearing black or not.
Photo (2017) by Alex Young of Judah Vision Media