Dear people who have watched me for years, but never talked to me
Dear people who think a PWI has brainwashed me
Dear people who think I am not black enough anymore
Dear people who think I am too liberal
Dear people who seldom ask how I am doing, but assume I am floating in the wind
Dear ex lovers who think I owe them things
Dear people who talk about me but never to me
Dear people who I knew
Dear people I have spoken to in 5 years
My growth game is so strong! I am unsure how I have manifested all of this magic, but it’s here and I am using it. I am still figuring out how to work my wand(s), but if I strike you on my “Black Hermione Granger” ish, I am not apologizing. This is merely practice. Imagine me in a few years when I’ve read a little more Sonia Sanchez, slept with some Black Feminist Theory, indulged in Rupi Kaur and my magic is overflowing. My liberalism, my education, my thoughts, my arts, my style, my heart, my life is magical.
Dear people who don’t know me anymore,
You dont know me anymore.
I say the accent in my name now.
I am not counting you out. You can still be a part of this narrative, just acknowledge the fact that you don’t know me like you used to. Pay homage to our Harlem Grown friendship roots, but be very willing to plant new ones. It will not be simple. I am a lot more complex now; there’s level to this black girl. Be willing to be confused, to be enlightened, to realize that you may not want to be my friend again. Be okay with that. All I ask is that you don’t condemn all of the beautiful things I have discovered along this journey. Don’t say I’ve changed. Don’t be intimidated by the way I mesh Christianity and Queer Theory and Black Womynism.
Dear people who don’t have my phone number anymore,
Stop following me on Instagram and take a walk with me. Grow with me… This is an invitation.