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You ever think about how wild it is to be a Black American? It’s like playing a video game, but the only mode available is hard. No shortcuts, no cheat codes—just pure survival.
Anytime we feel like we are finally getting ahead, we get pulled back. The continued movement of a goal post that was never meant for us to reach, because this system was built for rich cis-hetero White men. That’s exactly what the Trump administration represents—a deliberate effort to drag us back, to keep us in a fight our ancestors already bled for.
And speaking of our ancestors, you know a saying that I hate? “We are not our ancestors.” The statement is true but the perspective is wrong. This saying is used in a derogatory and disrespectful way towards our ancestors, like they didn’t sacrifice everything for us to get to this point. We aren’t our ancestors, we are weaker. What the Trump administration is doing, the civil rights they are reversing, that is not an America we know. That isn’t an America we’ve had to survive. So, what now? Do we crumble under the weight of a system determined to break us? Or do we stand in the legacy of those who came before us, knowing that survival—thriving even—is in our blood?
Being Black is dangerous as fuck. But you know what? I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. And if reincarnation is real, I pray I come back as a Black American woman every single time.
