Read on Twitter
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'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't matter then our minds and hearts and spirits surely don'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's not how I was raised. It's an honor to be born Black in this world. I don't care how they try to convince us otherwise.
It is a fucking honor.
It is a fucking honor.
They don't get to take that from us.
