A therapist, scholar, researcher, educator, and advocate. Or, on the surface, a young Black man usually spotted with a slight smile and funky head nod that runs a tightrope to any beat between Kendrick Lamar and Isaac Hayes. Who am I? A child born to two parents, who, not without scars, climbed up from poverty and oppression in the unforgiving streets of Baltimore, Maryland. A man whose parents hoped for him the privilege of dreaming. Now a doctor... aspirationally chanting the words of Ms. Angelou, "I am the dream and the hope of the slave." But if you ask me who I am, I'll reply, as a practicing Zen Buddhist, with the truth: Don't know. I don't know if I'm the perfect person to write this book, but I know I needed to write it. In the words of a mentor, this was a part of my healing process. And as such, I'm the perfect person to share it. While this book welcomes all, it is a compassionate letter from me, the Black boy raised around White people. A message to the structures, standards, and benefits of whiteness I was compared to, and simultaneously punished by. These words are a symbolic reminder of my unapologetic approach to challenging oppressive systems. My heart's intent is to find words for those with open ears to perceive world sound. For me, building compassionate community necessitates challenging systems. In doing so, I continually aspire to a life that possesses the properties of water: taking any form to reach all places, it may be soft and refreshing or ferocious and unrelenting.
