Updated: Sep 10
When I was growing up, I didn’t know.
I didn’t know that my skin was the color of cinnamon because the sun itself had kissed my ancestor’s so many times that it’s burning lips marked my own body an eternity later.
I didn’t know that my hips were wide because I was meant to dance.
That my lips were full because they were bursting with the brightest, & the most defiant Black Joy.
That my nose was wide for breathing in gratefulness & exhaling the hate that this world has tried to force upon me.
That my thighs and legs were strong for marching, toward truth & toward justice & towards a better world for US.
I didn’t know that the magic of the entire universe rushed through my very blood, that it encased my bones, that it was the very air that I breathed.
I didn’t know, because I wasn’t told.
So today I am going to tell you.
To the Black Child, you are pure magic.
To the Mixed Child, all parts of you are beautiful.
To the Child of Color, you are our wildest dreams.
You are valued. You are beautiful. You can change the world.
I want you to know that you have an army beside you. That even though you may come as one, you stand as 10,000.
We are with you.
Channel the singing voices of those that came before you & demand that their sacrifices be recognized, because THAT is what allowed for you to be here today.
You do not have to earn your place in this world, but you may demand it.
Demand your freedom. Demand equality. Demand diversity. Demand that they HEAR you.
Because YOU matter. Your LIFE matters.