My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not till death.
No person who lives authentically can be universally liked.
For the last year I have felt pulled between the expectations that straight Black women and white lesbian women have put upon my feminism.
At multiple points, it seems as though what one group values about my feminism is a point of contention for the other.
It’s less of a pressing concern because I am not particularly invested in whiteness.
I learned from a very early age that when you are surrounded by a group of white people, it’s a question of when rather than if the racism is going to manifest.