I would be lying bold-facely to you, if I said I didn't sometimes sacrifice my best self for others. Even the idea of being criticized by family for my curly hair makes me cringe to pieces. To avoid hearing how ugly my natural hair looks, I am tempted to roll my curls into a bun so tight, it actually feels like my brain is shrinking. This feeling is never worth it. Especially not after I've tasted the sweet sensation of liberation and letting my curls and feelings be free.
I march because I've nothing if not for my voice, my body, my art, my freedom.
I write, to create a space that speaks to who I am today and how I feel about who that woman is. I write, so these words can be found
by a young girl somewhere in the world who looks like me, with eyes bright like two sunshines and curly hair she can't deny and doesn't want to.
I keep writing, because I need to let her know that she is magic and powerful beyond measure. She looks in the mirror and tries to fit in but fitting in, she'll later learn, is never worth the cost of losing your tiny self. This same girl will be measured up to her neighbors and their friends, her classmates and their friends, the church and it's friends. Which way to the country club, how long until lent is over.
She'll be asked every day from every stranger she meets, "What are you anyway", before she is asked "What's your name". She'll live freely and innocently, not knowing that her brown skin and beauty threatens others. Until she's thirteen and stripped of her essence the second she is called the N-word, by a girl named Laura. She'll get silenced, she'll shrink, she will still try to fit in and deny, deny, deny who she really is. She, will even make excuses for Laura's ignorance. But she,
has never been made to fit into only one dimension. She isn't too dark, too skinny, too flirty, too pretty, too smart, too funny for a girl, too sarcastic, too much resting bitch face. She just is. Therefore, she is perfect.
Whoever you are, wherever in the world you might be,
I hope that you are reading this and will know. I don't have much to give besides these words
but I will march for you. I will sit here, in my Brooklyn apartment that I can't afford, to always and forever keep letting you know that
You are superLOVE.
And together we can make history.