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I did an interview with CNN this afternoon about something and, at the end, the reporter asked me if I had any final thoughts. I said, "about what?" she said, "anything you want people to know."
I thought about it for about half a second and then exhaled.
I thought about it for about half a second and then exhaled.
I spoke for about five minutes about how concerned I was about the collective mental health of Black people globally. How much has had to be shouldered just this year alone with no relief in sight. How we haven& #39;t had time to even catch our breaths before another grief is added.
I told her about my concerns for us and how none of it will ever be addressed because if our bodies don& #39;t matter then our minds and hearts and spirits surely don& #39;t matter.
I doubt any of that will find its way into the article-- how could it?-- but I needed to say it.
I doubt any of that will find its way into the article-- how could it?-- but I needed to say it.
I just spent about ten minutes, folded against the bathroom door, weeping like the tears were being ripped from me. I know why I held the at bay for these months. I gave myself ten minutes and then pulled it together.
I have work to do.
I have work to do.
Being Black in this world is not a burden for me. It never has been. Not once have I lamented or wished it away. It& #39;s not how I was raised. It& #39;s an honor to be born Black in this world. I don& #39;t care how they try to convince us otherwise.
It is a fucking honor.
It is a fucking honor.
They don& #39;t get to take that from us.
