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In today’s America, Black girls are an endangered species. Often times their humanity whether on display or not, for themselves or things as insignificant as flies, are ignored, denied, our outright destroyed. Many also fail to see the light they carry, chose to resist their light, or work to diminish their light. Such was the case of Bobbi, a little girl in NJ whose neighbor choose to report her to authorities rather than see the goodness of her humanity. Rather than giving him the the last word, I wrote the following to celebrate her worth and all those that celebrated her essence like what Dr. Ijeoma Opara did to make her dazzle over at Yale yesterday. Keep these musings for Black girls like Bobbi.

Dear Bobbi,

I imagine the world would be kind to girls like you. I Imagine they would treat you better than flies. Be it house or lantern flies. I imagine they would see you too. Know you and learn about what makes you smile in the morning or laugh in the middle of a movie night. I imagine they would care for you the same way they care for trees, or trash or neighbors or anything else with humanity they see. I imagine all this for you in a world large enough for you and them. But then, I remember that betrayal is their arch nemesis, while you are still the rim of the world, light’s very own genesis.

Everything about you is so clear, that you shine like stars with an aura so rare. No wonder they choose to dim your divinity. Yet, still you shine and through your diligence, you showcase the best of our humanity. You are truly the apex of our times for eyes still blind to the sincerity of our lives even for flies that tried to diminish the peculiarity of your light. So we keep imagining this for them and ourselves. That one day, somewhere, girls and women, dark like you, even those unlike you, will come together in a common desire for the best of our humanity for the sake of our collective prosperity. They will see and no longer be blind to your rarity. They will learn and no longer be in dark to your luminosity. That all things bright and beautiful, those dark like night and diligent in all things whether for lives or flies, whatever we choose to do, will be met with the same love you displayed for the best of our humanity.

This is my hope for all girls and women dark like you, myself included. Otherwise, keep displaying your light with severity. Let their eyes endure your shine till infinity or their obscurity. Either way, show them what it means to be the dawn, so profound, that they shiver at the sight of your light so full. With all my love.

Keep these musings in celebration for all Black girls like Bobbi.

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My daughter made art the other day. Her rendition of the cover of Sports Illustrated magazine. In it there was a woman playing tennis dressed in a orange and yellow top and red and pink shorts. Her name was Jennifer Walker and according to my daugther, she had helped the US to victory with her 26th win. There were people at the stands cheering her one, but most importantly Jennifer looked like my daughter or any other brown or black girl with a keen interest in tennis.

I begin here simply to say representation matters, especially for little black and brown girls. Of course my daughter’s muse was Serena Williams and to see her depicted from my daughters lens is the reason for today’s keep. Eternal will Serena’s impact remain for many girls even now that she has retired.

Who says representation doesn’t matter, has never truly seen black and brown girls for all they are. For to see them, not just glance at them or walk past them. To see them is to see love. The uncharted kind, pure and free. The kind the overflows too for free. Love lives in there hearts for free. It begins there too for free. You see it from their hair follicles for free. Down to big brown and black eyes that tell tales for free. It’s in the way they smile for free. The kind that melts your heart because it’s free. They are also a door to souls truly free. Their laughter, or joy, a witness to these times for free. Spare and precious for free. Their love can walk through valleys for free. Press through mountains and wilderness for free. Seats of wisdom resides in their minds for free. Art, the kind that warms minds is yours through them for free. I have been moved by the voice they share for free. Moved too by the valley of tears that flow for free. My heart knows how they love for free. They dance and beat their own drums for free. Send me to paths uncharted for free. In them I find light that shines for free. One that I hope stay lit for the world to see for free. Even the thinnest ways you see them, today or tomorrow, is the engine that sustains many souls for free. Representation truly matters and I’m glad Serena gave these pearls for free.

My daughter’s art

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I watched you the other night and wondered out loud to myself, where are you.

Surrounded by so many of them, few that looked like you, I felt like screaming out loud, where are you.

I waited for you to turn, waited for you to look my way, waited to see if your stride is still as confident as you are, waited to hear whether your voice is just as striking too.

You did. It is.

There you are. There you are still more beautiful than the rising sun.

Still with your crooked smile that melts my heart like on the day you first arrived. Still with a voice so serene, so charismatic like the call of birds.

Someday, somewhere, someone like me, will write about you, about your confident walk, your crooked smile, your charismatic voice, and how something tried but failed to dim the sun, and all it’s brilliance.

To know you, is to see the sun.

Image by Miranda M with ua_designed on instagram.

I think about black girls a lot. Black boys too. How they live and grow in a society that batters them before they turn 15. I watch whether they still stand erect as trees or not. Whether they have voice. Whether they remain rooted or not, in something stronger that whatever society throws their way. And society is out for them. I know this too well having grown in places that would rather we remain invisible than seen. Few care to dig in the night. I know. But when the possibilities of treasures like stars resides in them, why not dig. I choose to dig to see their light for myself. All they ways they bend and still stand. All they ways they speak, walk, confident in their words and stride. I choose to see because seeing is all we can do when society would rather they stay invisible. I hope to write one day letters that celebrate them, lift them up to, through the struggles, and still remain a fountain of joy for them. This is my prayer. That I too will keep seeing all black girls and boys, just as they are. Like the brilliance of the sun.

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Earlier this week my little girl came home with a Prize: The Duchesne Award.

As background, her principal wrote the following to dad and I in an email: ‘this student lives like St. Rose Philippine Duchesne by confidently living as a child of the Sacred Heart. Her faith shows in everything she does. She has a happy disposition and is a pleasure to be around. She radiates pure joy and it shows and everything she does, especially in her creativity. She is a good friend to her peers as well as always being polite and courteous to adults. She is a beautiful writer just like St. Rose Philippine Duchesne and expresses herself through thoughtful and creative writings she shares with her class. Her smile brightens the classroom every single day. She is encouraged to show her “brave” and stand up for what she believes in. She is strengthened by love and friendship and always has a positive outlook on all situations. The Duchesne Award for 3-6th grade goes to Lotanna Ezepue. Congratulations!’

Receiving her award!

I wanted to write something beautiful to my little girl after seeing. In fact, I did to her principal but not to her yet, mostly because words fail me. Not because she is my daughter but more so because she is all our hopes and dreams come true. To behold a child full of grace, is to know one truly blessed amongst many. They say a child shall lead, especially those whose feet are blind. And when they do, they will rise on wings like eagles and soar beyond golden sunsets. You my child are golden and may you continue to lead all of us in search of new paths with your creativity and discipline. For to know you, to love you too, is to know grace and our souls are full, because you bless us with your gifts. Keep soaring my Belle.

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Few bear witness to power within Black girls. Even very few celebrate it too. Yet black girls who are celebrated today, will be celebrated tomorrow and always. Today, I celebrate my daughter. She shared papers she received from school today. One after the other, they showed how terrific she was, whether with geography or spelling or basic reading. She was delighted to share her scores. I told her I was proud but better yet, I asked her how she felt. Her response: While she was taking these tests she was nervous. But now, she felt good about the scores because they show how she overcame her fears. As I listened to her, I was suddenly in awe of her intense awareness of fear and how to overcome them. She is only 9. Yet, this inward realization of her strength as applied to the outward celebrations of her tenacity is a treasure that surely must be supported at all cost, protected too. For black girls who know they are terrific today, will surely be legendary tomorrow. Keep being terrific my child.