“Swim Good” and the Sound of Healing
I’m about to drive in the ocean
I’mma try to swim from something
Bigger than me
Kick off my shoes and swim good
Swim good
Take off this suit and swim good
Swim good…
Fresh heartbreak has got that track, from Frank Ocean’s 2011 EP Nostalgia, Ultra, on my mind heavy. The song is dark, but Frank ain’t talking about suicide and neither am I. Though it’s steeped in allusions to the grave, from the opening line (“That’s a pretty big trunk on my Lincoln Towncar, ain’t it?”) to the funerary organ that plays throughout, what Ocean actually does is employ Edgar Allan Poe-esque symbolism to present death as a metaphor for rebirth and new beginnings.
“That’s a pretty big trunk on my Lincoln Towncar, ain’t it?”
His use of the phrase “swim good” as opposed to “swim well” is deliberate, and is a reference to the cleansing and spiritual properties of water. It calls to mind immersion baptism; the ritual of washing away one’s sins and literally swimming good.
A Southern river baptism
See, water has long played an important and complicated role in the diaspora. Stories of captured Africans jumping overboard during the treacherous Middle Passage are popular, though documented accounts of such mass suicides are rare. Erik Killmonger references this in Black Panther, when he says (in a very on-the-nose way 😑) “Bury me in the ocean, with my ancestors that jumped from the ships, because they knew death was better than bondage.” Despite this, the sea was a graveyard of sorts, as many dead and diseased Africans were thrown overboard by slavers.
In 1803, 75 Igbo took control of the Schooner York, drowned their captors and ran the vessel aground at Dunbar Creek on St. Simons Island, Georgia. What happened next depends on who you ask. In wider African American folklore, they walked into the water, still bound together by iron shackles, and chose death over slavery. They were said to be chanting in Igbo: "The Water Spirit brought us, the Water Spirit will take us home." Locals say their spirits still haunt the waters of the creek and the surrounding area.
In the oral traditions of my people, the Gullah, the Igbo walked over the water, reversing the voyage and returning home to Africa. The enslaved who fled the bondage of Southern plantations often traveled through lakes, rivers, bayous, and swamps, hoping to leave no scent for bloodhounds to follow. The spiritual “Wade in the Water” alludes to the practice, and it is believed that Harriet Tubman used the song to guide the self-liberated along the Underground Railroad.
In Bakongo (Kongo) spirituality, the Kalunga line is a watery boundary between the realm of the living and the dead. It represents a place that is neither here nor there. Bisimbi are water spirits which guide the bakulu (ancestors) along the Kalunga line to the afterlife. In the hoodoo tradition, these spirits are also present during the baptisms of Black Christians.
The Funeral Procession (c. 1950) by Ellis Wilson
And I got this black suit on,
Roamin’ around like I'm ready for a funeral…
Like Frank Ocean, I’m mourning the sudden death of a relationship, but I’m not riding around with a trunk full of broken hearts. There’s only one, and it takes up all the space. I also don’t feel the need to hide my emotions while I learn to adjust (“I woulda put tints on my windows, but what's the difference? If I feel like a Ghost, no Swayze, ever since I lost my baby…”), even though I still don’t feel quite like me.
I find myself craving the beach and the water more than ever these days, and I know it's this Gullah Geechee blood coursing through my veins, responding to the call of the Ancestors. They know what I need. They always do.
Water heals.
Water is life.
No flares
No vest
And no fear
Waves are washin' me out…
