It’s Women’s History Month and under the blinding and potent era of a president who famously loves to refer to us as pigs, pussies, or any other labels that don’t play well in the overall scope of onward progression — there is the temptation to spew out think pieces aimed at fighting the good fight till the end.
But, the end is now.
The Black women who have either died or buried the dead for the sake of misfortune that comes with being a citizen of a country that haunts the ones it hates into the bloody marshes of tomorrow and beyond — can’t be overlooked for spectacular marches into the sunset — that supposedly represent unity when it’s more divisive than the calculations on Capitol Hill.
Even the women of color who rise above the challenges of being bullied with each point they accrue on the tennis court and the avenue of success on the the big and small screens — can’t escape the ranks of putrid disembowelment.
Even the former First Lady was reduced to messaging that tried but failed to derail her astute disposition.
I boogie to the beat of my own drum.
And when I get down, I go all the way into the grit and grime and swallow the pebbles of realization that astounds you when you get the pieces to almost fit.
The cracks are the work that needs to be done is gaping and life threatening and the struggle for validation for what my sisters continue to endure is a mission that I gladly accept.
Let us celebrate the heroines that didn’t ask for such assignment. They were women first and foremost with the beauty and assurance of reciprocal honor. Somehow, the cards that were dealt in their absence overtook the joys of existence that they deserved.
I think about it all the time — now more than ever.
The keys of Medium stroking my voice as it transforms into letters addressed to the women of the month, year, and century.
The women of our lifetime who are waiting for due process in the form of a promise that we will continue to honor their plight with public recognition that takes many forms.
This is just a personal illustration.
I Didn’t March Because I’m an Overwhelmingly Displaced Black Woman
Looking at the images from around the world it’s hard to stay focused and not be erratic in a thought process that…
Social Media Fucked Over Korryn Gaines Because That’s How We “Catch a Thief”
Korryn Gaines — the young black woman who was set up for termination by the Baltimore Police Force — managed to…
I’m With Her, Samaria Rice
I’ve made my choice. It wasn’t a difficult one. In fact it was right in front of my very eyes. All along.
Diamond Reynolds is the All-American Hero Nobody Wants
Diamond Reynolds watched her boyfriend Philando Castile get shot. While he bled to death and spent his last moments…
Chewbacca Mom is on Fleek so Why is Peaches Monroee on Silent?
I watched the viral video of Candace Payne a.k.a., Chewbacca Mom — as she played around with the mask of her destiny.
Serena Williams: Champion Without A Country
Her hard-fought, on-court battles simply can’t measure up to the challenges of being a Black woman in America.
Gabby Douglas is a Hero, Whether America Wants Her or Not
Heroes aren’t born that way. They evolve into that person at a result of special qualities that were formed through the…
Why Simone Manuel’s Victory is Mired in the Reality of Being Black in America
#BlackGirlMagic never felt so good. I am kind of wary about throwing that hashtag around because as much as I relish…
Women’s History Month Begins With Black Women in Hollywood
The magnificent Viola Davis flew in like a sphinx — resembling the Angela Bassett of our days. Dark-skinned, thick…