There is no one way to be black. Blackness is not a monolith and you are not someone who is lost in the abyss of uniformity.
Blackness is a kaleidoscope where, if you look closely, you will see many colorful patterns within the many reflections in the mirror. There is no one way to be black.
You are not better than another black person by virtue of your speech, dress, or education. If someone will hate you because you are black, they will do so regardless of your presentation. In fact, that may make them hate you more for trying to become like them. If you believe that you are better than another black person, then you must scrutinize the standard at which you hold them and yourself to see if you are reinforcing white supremacy.
You are not just “pretty for a black girl.” You are pretty, period. When people qualify your beauty, their mindset has been shattered while looking at your face, and the only way for them to make sense of who they have beheld is to weaken your magnificence.
Do not fall for it. Whether or not you realize this, when they leave you, they will be forever changed. That imprint of your face will stay on their minds and leave them in a state of prolonged amazement.
You are going to be loved beyond measure. You must believe that with every part of your being. There will be someone who will not demand for you to diminish your black womanhood so that they can feel more comfortable, someone who will not believe that your accomplishments reflect their insufficiency, someone who will listen and allow for you to feel the gamut of emotion.
If you stumble across someone who makes you feel guilty for any of the aforementioned traits, make the decision not to love and commit to them any longer than you have. If they apologize, hopefully they will work towards unlearning. Nevertheless, this is not your concern. You do not have to take up the full responsibility of being someone’s educator. Yes, there is much to learn, but some have to learn by themselves.
When you make love, nakedness does not begin after your clothes are strewn across the floor. Nakedness begins when you strip every shameful memory about your body before penetration. You are not a fast-tailed girl because you crave to connect with someone else. You are not a slut for having been cursed for living in a black female body. Do you know that culture begins in your body? Do you know that when someone enters you, they are pushing into the ancient? When you come, that is rivers and lakes that stream from your body. When someone feasts upon you, that is strength and energy that no apothecary can provide.
There are savannahs around your arms and legs, mountains and hills for your breasts and stomach, a delta, roots from the hair that grows to the stretch marks designed on your thighs. You are the start of civilization, and lovemaking is the pledge of allegiance to all that you are.
Forgive your mothers and grandmothers. To what extent is your decision alone. If you do not forgive them, that is your choice as well. But always remember that you are battling to live as they are, fighting between being strong and human, assertive and docile.
If or when your body grows with the expectation of a child, there may be temptation to obsess over the baby’s looks, especially if the child is a girl. You may worry about her eventual skin color and hair texture. This worry may be exacerbated by other black women who rub your stomach and speculate, too. These are legitimate concerns, for we are still living in this world with all of its stagnant racial and social hierarchies. But do not let these concerns stamp out the excitement that you are bringing life into this world, a life that will be just fine if you affirm her excellence as much as you can. That affirmation begins in the home, that safe space where self-adulation is the arsenal before stepping back out into the world.
When you return home after a long day, check in with yourself. How are you feeling? What have you learned? What are you grateful for? What is something that you need to affirm? You can answer these aloud, write them down in your diary, meditate, confess them in prayer. You need this time. Do it as soon as possible so that your emotions will not metastasize into something larger than the contexts in which they were found, wreaking havoc upon your mind and body.
When you lie down in bed, turn your face towards the window to allow for the moon to kiss you on the forehead with its light.
Close your eyes and take a deep breath in. Allow for your chest to expand as much as it can before you exhale. Whatever happened during the day is done. But you are still here and should revel in that, for this is how you survive.
10
A Black Girl Like Me
There was one black female writer who I admired more than most others. She was a gorgeous and well-liked person who regularly wrote for the Guardian as well as other notable publications. One day, I found out that she admired me, too, for she included me in a list of black female writers whose work she enjoyed. I was elated. Weeks later, I summoned the courage to ask her if she could perhaps talk to one of the editors at the Guardian to convince her that I’d be a good person from whom to commission work or to at least give me some advice. She told me she would talk to one of the editors and get back to me. The next day, I received an email from that editor, asking me if I would like to write a quick op-ed. The piece marked the first of many strides, and I thanked my black female colleague for helping me. But she admitted that she hadn’t spoken to the editor before that editor reached out to me. Maybe she didn’t get around to it. I didn’t press the issue then. Either way, at least she wanted to help me, I thought.