I'll never be ashamed of being Black nor afraid, but I've got to tell you that I'm genuinely afraid of other people and how they consider me being Black, especially in their proximity.

Ever since I started to pursue translation as my core body of work, my pride in being Black has only grown. Perhaps somewhere, someone black had read an article I translated. Maybe somewhere, someone like me happened upon this Twitter and felt seen.

And I love that I am able to do something like that, to maybe put some good into the world. It feels really, really powerful: it feels really, really healing and cathartic too.

I love being Black: I love the color of my skin, the curls in my hair, my nose, my lips, my hips. I like simply existing in my very Black body.

And I love my heritage, my history: love how all that lives in me. I love that I'm part of that living history too.

But over the past few weeks, I feel a bit trampled on: black is my skin, tender is my heart, and my heart hurts so much these days.

How many more of my skinfolk gotta pass before we stop being headlines?

How many more murder videos do I have to see before there's more change?

I will never stop being Black: I used to wish I wasn't, when I was young, but now, I can't imagine bring anything but who I am.

I just wish that more people didn't see my skin as a threat. I just wish people would be a by more tender.

(there's a good many typos in this thread, but I don't even care. Thank you for reading, and thank you everyone for all your kind words.)