Without being taken"
I wanted to look away. I couldn't.
"Black girl found
But not the way stories tell it
Not rescued—
Reclaimed"
Her voice grew stronger. The words came faster.
"She crawled out of silence
With fists clenched, violence on her mind, capable
Carrying every echo with her"
I thought about the attic. The blood on the wall. The way she'd held that gun like she'd been holding it her whole life.
"Black girl learning
How to take up space without apology
How to make her voice loud in a room
Without asking if it's allowed"
People were leaning forward now. Listening.
"How to be soft
Without being breakable
How to be wanted
Without being owned"
"Black girl free
But freedom don't feel like fireworks
It feels like breathing"
She opened her eyes.
"It feels like expensive shoes and a sister you just met, no blood relation"
A woman in the front row clapped.
"It feels like hero worship that turns into love"
Her eyes found me in the back of the room.
"And feels like orgasms."
The room went silent.
