The voice of a Black woman should always be HERSELF ...

No edits - no erasure - no pressure - no expectations - no additions - no intruders

And that makes us (black women) feel like we have spokespeople, because everybody we encounter feels they have a piece of you and can tell you how to live your life

Oh Child

Look within

Find your ForeMothers

Find them

Find them

You have a color of your own- Dark chocolate,
You have a culture your own- Hip pop,
You have a revival of your own- Harlem Renaissance,
You are the spot on a ladybug that adds its beauty,
You are the pupil of an eye,
You are the vastness of space,
You are the richness of soil,
You are the sweetness of dark chocolate,
You are the mystery in nature,
Blessed Black chocolate, God has made You to rule the Land, that made You a slave.

Thinking - thinking real hard.

My grandmother knew when I was down. She knew what to do

She would encourage me to engage in "self-care" and would do all manner of therapeutic things for me

Sometimes, our ForeMothers knew how to spot mental illness and help us!

She would mix some oils and ask me to breathe in and out...

or boil some herbs and ask me to bask in the steam

She would send me to work in the field - because the closer we are to the EARTH the grounded we become

She would sing for me - and then pray

It didn't occur to me that I never named my own mystery illness the spring before (except to misdiagnose it to friends as mono), because I'd been afraid to admit, even to my mother, how much I'd wanted to lie down somewhere and hide. Black women, tall and strong as cypress trees, didn't pull that. Pain and shame and cowardice and fear had to be kept secret.