Go Get What’s Yours, Baby: A Love Note to the Black Viewers of Sinners

This is not a deep dive.
This is not a think piece.
This is not where I try to untangle the symbolism or challenge your worldview.

This—this right here—is a soft place to land.
A love letter.
An affirmation.
A permission slip.

To every Black viewer who sat with Sinners and felt something stir,
this is for you.

Because maybe it wasn’t the dialogue.
Maybe it wasn’t the lighting or the plot or the arc.
Maybe what caught you—what lingered—
was that quiet, unshakable truth that something has been taken from us.
And maybe, just maybe,
you left knowing
it’s time to take it back.

We have been called sinners
long before we ever learned to pray.
We’ve been labeled, framed, re-named—
taught to believe that our history is shame,
that our brilliance is burden,
that our joy is too loud
and our grief is too much.

But let me remind you:
you come from survivors.
From royalty.
From rhythm.
From revival.

You don’t need a degree in theology to know
that the divine has always walked with us.
You don’t need anyone’s permission to reclaim
your name,
your land,
your faith,
your rest.

Let Sinners be what it is.
Let the critics write their essays.
Let the internet debate the meaning.

As for you?
You walk away with something more sacred:
the reminder that your story still matters.
That your inheritance—cultural, spiritual, ancestral—
is not gone.

It is waiting for you.

You don’t have to fix it all overnight.
You don’t have to be perfect.
You don’t even have to explain.

You just have to remember:
It’s yours.

So go get what’s yours, baby.
The joy.
The peace.
The power.
The memory.
The name they tried to erase.
The God you thought you had to leave behind.

Own your history.
Reconnect to your people.
And walk like you know
that everything they buried
was always a seed.

You still got time.
And you still got purpose.
And you still got love.

Now go on.
Take it back