When they try to knock us down, remember that we’re taller now. Itchy blades of grass scratching at our ankles When they tell us to bow down We’ll hear their voices smaller now They think we’re going to cooperate in our own oppression Smile Provoked to become all we were promised to be Smile Pushed to remember our own divinity Smile Held captive, reactive, pleading let us free. Pause and remember, my freedom lies with me.

I want to take a moment to acknowledge the incredibly kind, moving, and heart expanding comments on my last post. I’m going to try to reply to more of them but I wanted to say thank you for reading, for caring, and for writing. If I don’t reply to every comment it’s not because I don’t see them or feel your sentiments, it’s because I’m SUPER sensitive and I feel everything.

When I was in 7th grade I tagged along with a friend who was babysitting — my friend was white and so was the girl we were babysitting. A game of make believe came to a grinding halt when the young white child we were watching told me that I would have to play the evil queen — when I asked why she replied — “because you’re black”. My friend looked shocked and embarrassed.

We get to be the heroes of our own stories. We get to center ourselves in our own experiences. We get to witness the repeated disregard for black lives and the demonization of black people and whisper to ourselves and each other that those lives matter. We get to say it when the evidence suggests the contrary. We get to affirm it with the breaths we keep taking and the dreams we keep chasing.