There’s a deeper language running underneath everything — one that has nothing to do with race, class, or category. It’s the language of spirit. And for those tuned into it, it’s unmistakable.
Some people can walk into a room and feel someone’s energy before they say a word — their steadiness, kindness, wit, or wild creative spark. That’s the real signal. That’s who someone is. Not their ancestry, not the labels handed down to them, but the quality of their being.
My people are the ones who recognize that. Who understand that spirit is the truest part of us — the part that tells the truth when the surface tries to lie. They can feel sincerity, integrity, and warmth as easily as others might see color. They know the difference between a small soul hiding behind labels and a big one radiating authenticity.
Those still clinging to race as their primary lens — dividing, policing, sorting — are living in the past. They’ve mistaken the costume for the actor, the symbol for the story. That way of seeing is primitive. It’s the worldview of people not yet evolved enough to perceive the world in full color, beyond category.
And maybe that’s the quiet revolution happening now — the rise of people who connect through spirit first, and everything else second. People who’ve learned that humanity isn’t meant to be catalogued; it’s meant to be felt.
When you operate from that place, you start recognizing your people instantly — not by how they look, but by the resonance in how they live. You see who’s real, who’s awake, who’s unafraid to love across every line.
The rest? They’ll fade. Because division isn’t sustainable. The future belongs to those who can sense the hum of shared spirit beneath the noise — who can look at another person and think, I know what you’re made of, and mean it in the best possible way.
