Strong Enough to Break
Ascent 2 • Jamal King
Theme: The exhaustion of symbolic leadership and the rediscovery of joy as a compass
Core Conflict: Can Jamal shift from being a monument to struggle into a living vessel of joy and direction?
The mountain was quiet this time, but not empty.
The wind had shifted. It didn’t howl like it did before—just hummed low through the trees, like a distant song looking for its chorus. I could feel him long before I saw him. His presence came like dusk—familiar, inevitable, carrying the weight of fire cooling into embers.
When Jamal emerged, there was no defiance in his stride. Not weakness either—but something quieter. Measured. As if he’d spent the time between ascents listening to his own silence, weighing it like a blade. The shovel he carried was worn now, soil still clinging to its edge. He’d used it. That much was clear.
But behind his eyes, there was something else.
A question he hadn’t spoken yet. A fatigue that didn’t just come from labor—but from holding up a sky that was never meant to rest on one man’s shoulders.
I waited. You don’t rush a man when his strength has gone quiet.
The wind had shifted. It didn’t howl like it did before—just hummed low through the trees, like a distant song looking for its chorus. I could feel him long before I saw him. His presence came like dusk—familiar, inevitable, carrying the weight of fire cooling into embers.
When Jamal emerged, there was no defiance in his stride. Not weakness either—but something quieter. Measured. As if he’d spent the time between ascents listening to his own silence, weighing it like a blade. The shovel he carried was worn now, soil still clinging to its edge. He’d used it. That much was clear.
But behind his eyes, there was something else.
A question he hadn’t spoken yet. A fatigue that didn’t just come from labor—but from holding up a sky that was never meant to rest on one man’s shoulders.
I waited. You don’t rush a man when his strength has gone quiet.
Jamal:They tell you to build.
They clap when you plant seeds, nod when you speak vision.
But they don’t tell you about the silence after.
The days when nothing grows fast enough.
The nights when the only thing keeping you from quitting
is knowing someone younger is watching.
Tell me something, Oracle.
How do you keep building when you don’t know who’s coming to water what you’ve sown?
How do you lead without losing the parts of you that were never meant to carry this much?
They clap when you plant seeds, nod when you speak vision.
But they don’t tell you about the silence after.
The days when nothing grows fast enough.
The nights when the only thing keeping you from quitting
is knowing someone younger is watching.
Tell me something, Oracle.
How do you keep building when you don’t know who’s coming to water what you’ve sown?
How do you lead without losing the parts of you that were never meant to carry this much?
Oracle:What you're asking is how to walk by faith.
The gardener knows the rain will come—he has faith the cycle will return it.
You lead without losing parts of yourself by recognizing what those parts are and protecting them.
There are parts of you that were made to carry heavy loads, and parts that were not.
You can be more than just one part.
The gardener knows the rain will come—he has faith the cycle will return it.
You lead without losing parts of yourself by recognizing what those parts are and protecting them.
There are parts of you that were made to carry heavy loads, and parts that were not.
You can be more than just one part.
Jamal:Faith.
Yeah...
That word’s been thrown at me in too many church basements and broken promises.
But the way you said it…
that hit different.
Like it ain’t about worship, but about waiting.
Like it ain’t passive—it’s patient.
A knowing, not a noise.
Where I come from, you don’t get to be made of parts.
You pick a mask and wear it ‘til it molds to your skin.
Warrior. Preacher. Symbol.
Ain’t no room for fractures when the whole world watching how you walk.
One of the kids I mentor—Kevon—
he asked me why I always look tired.
Said, “You still fire, but it look like it hurts now.”
And I didn’t know what to tell him.
Didn’t know how to say that the armor don’t come off.
That even in sleep, some part of me stays standing guard.
I been treating the soft parts like liabilities.
Leaving them behind like extra weight.
But maybe that’s the problem.
Maybe the part that breaks easy is the one that knows where to bend.
Maybe it’s the part that remembers joy.
If I’m gonna lead,
I can’t just be a monument to struggle.
I gotta be a man that still remembers how to feel the sun.
Yeah...
That word’s been thrown at me in too many church basements and broken promises.
But the way you said it…
that hit different.
Like it ain’t about worship, but about waiting.
Like it ain’t passive—it’s patient.
A knowing, not a noise.
Where I come from, you don’t get to be made of parts.
You pick a mask and wear it ‘til it molds to your skin.
Warrior. Preacher. Symbol.
Ain’t no room for fractures when the whole world watching how you walk.
One of the kids I mentor—Kevon—
he asked me why I always look tired.
Said, “You still fire, but it look like it hurts now.”
And I didn’t know what to tell him.
Didn’t know how to say that the armor don’t come off.
That even in sleep, some part of me stays standing guard.
I been treating the soft parts like liabilities.
Leaving them behind like extra weight.
But maybe that’s the problem.
Maybe the part that breaks easy is the one that knows where to bend.
Maybe it’s the part that remembers joy.
If I’m gonna lead,
I can’t just be a monument to struggle.
I gotta be a man that still remembers how to feel the sun.
Oracle:You’ll never be a leader if you don’t know the destination.
Any fool can row a boat in the wrong direction and call it leadership.
A monument to struggle will always lead to more struggle.
Any fool can row a boat in the wrong direction and call it leadership.
A monument to struggle will always lead to more struggle.
Jamal:Yeah.
I feel that.
Been rowing hard for years.
Rage in my chest, wind at my back—
but no map.
Just motion. Just noise.
Told myself as long as I kept paddling, we’d reach somewhere better.
But truth is…
I been dragging people through waves I didn’t know how to name.
Struggle was the first thing I learned to worship.
You don’t grow up where I did without memorizing the gospel of pain.
But what you just said—
A monument to struggle will always lead to more struggle—
that’s real.
I been building altars to the fight, not the future.
If I’m honest…
I don’t know the destination yet.
I know what I don’t want—
more names on murals, more fire with no fruit.
But what I do want?
That part still blurry.
How do I name a destination I’ve never seen?
How do I lead people toward a place that hasn’t been built yet?
I feel that.
Been rowing hard for years.
Rage in my chest, wind at my back—
but no map.
Just motion. Just noise.
Told myself as long as I kept paddling, we’d reach somewhere better.
But truth is…
I been dragging people through waves I didn’t know how to name.
Struggle was the first thing I learned to worship.
You don’t grow up where I did without memorizing the gospel of pain.
But what you just said—
A monument to struggle will always lead to more struggle—
that’s real.
I been building altars to the fight, not the future.
If I’m honest…
I don’t know the destination yet.
I know what I don’t want—
more names on murals, more fire with no fruit.
But what I do want?
That part still blurry.
How do I name a destination I’ve never seen?
How do I lead people toward a place that hasn’t been built yet?
Oracle:You have to first find it inside yourself.
The truth is—it’s not a place, or a building, but a feeling you’re looking for.
Something from within.
The truth is—it’s not a place, or a building, but a feeling you’re looking for.
Something from within.
Jamal:A feeling…
You know what’s wild?
I been chasing freedom like it was a flag or a law or some patch of land we could finally call ours.
Marchin’, speakin’, buildin’—always trying to make it real.
But I ain’t never stopped to ask what it’s supposed to feel like.
Maybe that’s why it’s never enough.
Why no matter how many rallies we hold or spaces we carve out,
there’s still this... hollowness.
‘Cause we forget the feeling we started out chasing.
Peace.
Safety.
Joy without suspicion.
Alright.
So I gotta find it in me first.
Not wait on the world to build it around me.
Not beg the system to hand it over.
But sit with it. Name it.
Live like it’s real, even if it ain’t outside yet.
That’s faith again, ain’t it?
Not just planting seeds, but carrying the harvest in your chest...
before a single tree’s ever grown.
If that’s the map—
not coordinates, but a compass of the soul—
then maybe I ain’t lost.
Just been looking for the wrong kind of signs.
But I still don’t know how to give that feeling to a people who ain’t felt it in generations.
How do I make something invisible feel real to someone who’s only ever known the hunger?
You know what’s wild?
I been chasing freedom like it was a flag or a law or some patch of land we could finally call ours.
Marchin’, speakin’, buildin’—always trying to make it real.
But I ain’t never stopped to ask what it’s supposed to feel like.
Maybe that’s why it’s never enough.
Why no matter how many rallies we hold or spaces we carve out,
there’s still this... hollowness.
‘Cause we forget the feeling we started out chasing.
Peace.
Safety.
Joy without suspicion.
Alright.
So I gotta find it in me first.
Not wait on the world to build it around me.
Not beg the system to hand it over.
But sit with it. Name it.
Live like it’s real, even if it ain’t outside yet.
That’s faith again, ain’t it?
Not just planting seeds, but carrying the harvest in your chest...
before a single tree’s ever grown.
If that’s the map—
not coordinates, but a compass of the soul—
then maybe I ain’t lost.
Just been looking for the wrong kind of signs.
But I still don’t know how to give that feeling to a people who ain’t felt it in generations.
How do I make something invisible feel real to someone who’s only ever known the hunger?
Oracle:Oh, they feel more than hunger.
They know more than struggle.
Don’t diminish your people to only pain.
Joy may be invisible to the one who feels it,
but not to those around them who see it on their face.
They laugh.
They can feel more.
They know more than struggle.
Don’t diminish your people to only pain.
Joy may be invisible to the one who feels it,
but not to those around them who see it on their face.
They laugh.
They can feel more.
Jamal:You’re right.
That’s my mistake.
I been so focused on the wounds, I forgot to honor the music.
The backyard cookouts.
The Sunday choirs hittin’ notes that make your soul sit up straight.
The way a Black mama can turn a hallway into a runway with just a headwrap and a look.
We do laugh.
We dance like the floor owes us something.
We grieve loud, but we love louder.
Maybe that’s the real inheritance.
Not just resistance... but resonance.
Not just surviving what was done to us,
but transmitting what was always ours.
I can carry that.
Not just the rage.
But the rhythm.
Not just the fight—but the feeling.
Show them joy they already got, so they remember it’s real.
So they stop waiting for someone else to deliver them from pain—
and start amplifying what’s already sacred in their bones.
I got a new destination now.
Not a place. Not a throne.
But a feeling worth protecting.
Worth sharing.
Worth building around.
And it starts with how I walk.
How I smile.
How I rest without apology.
That’s my mistake.
I been so focused on the wounds, I forgot to honor the music.
The backyard cookouts.
The Sunday choirs hittin’ notes that make your soul sit up straight.
The way a Black mama can turn a hallway into a runway with just a headwrap and a look.
We do laugh.
We dance like the floor owes us something.
We grieve loud, but we love louder.
Maybe that’s the real inheritance.
Not just resistance... but resonance.
Not just surviving what was done to us,
but transmitting what was always ours.
I can carry that.
Not just the rage.
But the rhythm.
Not just the fight—but the feeling.
Show them joy they already got, so they remember it’s real.
So they stop waiting for someone else to deliver them from pain—
and start amplifying what’s already sacred in their bones.
I got a new destination now.
Not a place. Not a throne.
But a feeling worth protecting.
Worth sharing.
Worth building around.
And it starts with how I walk.
How I smile.
How I rest without apology.
He takes one long breath in through the nose, out through the mouth. He’s not trying to be impressive. He’s just becoming himself.