Mychal Denzel Smith starts off this epistolary exchange among Black men. He notes that he writes on the anniversary of Malcolm X’s assassination and Nina Simone’s birthday. Smith is 26. He is finally comfortable enough to call himself a man, though he spent years being confused about what that entailed. When he was 21, he quarreled with his father, who expected him to take on more responsibility when Smith was still in school. Smith wanted to be a writer, but he didn’t know how to become one. Smith notes that, just yesterday, his father told him that he loves him. His father has been saying “I love you” a lot more this year. He wonders about all the time they’ve missed together.

Darnell Moore writes to Smith that “‘living’ is the most radical act” that Black men can perform (81). Moore doesn’t go to therapy like Smith does, though he has a master’s degree in clinical counseling and has a history of suicide attempts. He spent his early twenties in bed a lot, like Smith, trying to escape from life. When he was awake, he spent much of his time trying to convince those around him that he “was straight and, therefore, acceptable and honorable as a Black man” (81).