32.

I’m sitting on a beach thankful because this is what I wanted. All I desired was to stand near the ocean, talk to God, and write. 

I’m in Florida thinking about Trayvon Martin and how we have to ride through racist towns to get to nice beaches. I’m doing all the right things so no one bothers me. I’m thinking I’ve never felt this beautiful and free in my life. 

 I feel like there is nothing that can stop me, but me. I’ve never been more confident in the direction I’m going in life. There is just something that feels right. I would be lying if I said it was easy getting to this location. I’ve lost and gained a lot. I’ve laughed, neglected myself far too many times, cried, and pushed myself. 

 I have more confidence. I’m dangerous.

 I’m 32.

I’ve learned the importance of trusting my voice. I’ve sat in too many meetings and listened to my ideas repeated and stolen with no compensation. 

I know more and I’m better.

I’ve learned to actually care and see the people in my life. I spent too many years ignoring the greatness in those who love me. 

I’ve learned the importance of connecting with my ancestors and learning all I can about where I come from. I acknowledge I am unable to complete my assignment on earth without their guidance and thank God that they walked this earth and walk with me. I feel so connected.

I’ve learned to walk away from spaces that don’t appreciate or care for Black people…especially Black women and girls. I no longer hold allegiance to these people or spaces. I’ve sat on too many committees blindly protecting practices we claim to hate, cooperating in systems of violence rather than dismantling them.  I’ve learned meetings with leadership who rather protect whiteness don’t work. I no longer (knowingly) walk into spaces that attempt to tie up my gifts in order to uphold mediocre standards.  Because every time I did this…I lost a piece of myself and I refuse to continue to lose pieces of me.

The best thing I did was boldly and unashamedly walk toward what freedom feels like, and I don’t have to wait until 40 to say this.

I now begin in new places. This is my starting point. 32. The place at which I’ve learned to appreciate life. Unfortunately, Black girls like Ma’khia Bryant didn’t get that chance. I shouldn’t have to think about the death of Ma’khia before her life. I shouldn’t have to live in fear and so I won’t. 

For the rest of my life, I will only walk toward what feels free and new life-giving places. I will no longer make compromises in exchange for Black suffering and death. 

I make no compromises for my joy. I sing. I dance. I tell the truth. I feel free.

Because this is 32.