This is one of the purest and goodest videos that exists on the web
" Oh wait you’re African? I thought you were dark Arab"
" Can you speak African to me?"
" How long is your hair?
Can I see it?
Can I touch it?
Is it pretty?
Do you have black people hair?”
*Random people coming up to me*
Random person ” I love your head scarf. Where are you from?”
took the bus home,
carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment
and cooked myself dinner.
You and I may have different definitions of a good day.
This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill,
worked 60 hours between my two jobs,
only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks
and slept like a rock.
Flossed in the morning,
locked my door,
and remembered to buy eggs.
My mother is proud of me.
It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.
She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale”
with, ”Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs”
But she is proud.
See, she remembers what came before this.
The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles,
how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.
She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide.
These were the bad days.
My life was a gift that I wanted to return.
My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs.
Depression, is a good lover.
So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you.
And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world,
That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting.
It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created.
Today, I slept in until 10,
cleaned every dish I own,
fought with the bank,
took care of paperwork.
You and I might have different definitions of adulthood.
I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college,
but I don’t speak for others anymore,
and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for.
And my mother is proud of me.
I burned down a house of depression,
I painted over murals of greyscale,
and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live
But today, I want to live.
I didn’t salivate over sharp knives,
or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge.
I just cleaned my bathroom,
did the laundry,
called my brother.
Told him, “it was a good day.
"According to the FBI, there have been 129 confirmed white Christian terrorists in the last 20 years. That includes Timothy McVae, the uni-bomber, the Atlanta Olympics bomber and dozens of family planning centers and abortion clinics. Muslims? 19. Which would make white people the most likely demographic to commit a terrorist attack. So watch your mouth before you call me a terrorist or I’ll knock your fucking teeth out.”
Twice as good.
All black children got this lesson.
hell yeah we did
"Twice as good as them to get HALF of what they have"
my dad said the same thing. that’s crazy.
ngl this part got to me
Can’t help but tear up. Because this is true.
- me: i want to go to England
- me: i want to go to Paris
- me: i want to go to Australia
- me: i want to go everywhere
- money: lol no
- time: lol no
- world: lol no