It's My Birthday, I'm Turning Unkillable

In my 25th year, the actor playing me finally needed a water break. The curtains closed, the crowd waited, but she has yet to make another appearance. But the show had to go on, there were dishes in the sink and deadlines to meet, people to grieve and kids to feed, so suddenly I was playing the role myself.

But as I turn 26 I realize I’m not playing at all, this isn’t an act. A more honest version of myself is who everyone meets lately, because it’s all I can manage. Every second of this past year my capacity was being pushed to its limit and there wasn’t, and still isn’t, any space to squeeze “Filter and Repackage My Thoughts and Actions” into my schedule.

My shoulders rest easier now, in a way they wouldn’t when I’d watch her (the actor) spruce up my mundanities so they’d work in front of mixed company (the audience). My sentences ease out my mouth, where they come from I don’t know but I’m happy to let the words lead me to versions of myself I forgot to consider. And my voice sounds like home, again, but for the first time that I can remember. That’s how long it’s been.

I’ve been waiting for this homecoming for years. For the day my body felt large enough to hold me in my entirety, the bits I called ugly and evil finally being brought into the light and looked upon with eyes able to see that there was no ugly or evil at all. Just things that were misunderstood and intentionally malnourished.

This is all just a long-winded and not long enough way of saying that I’m here. I’m here in my body and I won’t abandon it again. The cost is always too high and the fall keeps getting further.

My body and I refuse smallness, suffering and silence. We embrace expansiveness, curiosity, and ease. They’re starting to feel like non-negotiables, accommodations I’ll keep asking for but don’t have a problem getting in blood.

Happy birthday to me, I’m not dead yet.

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[UPDATES!]

I’m beyond grateful to have a few of my pieces recently put out into the world. These publications and organizations are all doing necessary work. Tap in and/or give them some coin, unless you hate Black people.

• Kweli Journal: “Kolah’s Hands”

• Abolition Journal: “Lost Lady. Found Niece.”

• Assata’s House Zine: “The Earth Grows Political Strategy”

Being 25 beat my ass and I didn’t write nearly as much as I would’ve liked but I guess I’ve been working regardless. I hope to really start using my pen and editorial brain for revolutionary evil so hit me about whatever.

Xoxo. Black power. Lift every voice and sing.