reflections
these are words we return to.
they are not lessons.
they are not instructions.
they are not something you need to agree with.
they are places to return.
rooted in Black memory.
simply a place to remember what has always mattered.
may these words accompany you.
peace be with you.
black isn't just a color
before i ever had words for Blackness, i lived inside it. a remembrance of home, belonging, and the ordinary moments that first taught me what it meant.
what we carry
there are things we were never meant to leave behind. what happens when remembering becomes a practice?