identity issues
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I looked in the mirror and began to cry. Not ordinary tears but ones of deep sorrow. The kind that comes from generations of trauma. The ones where my ancestors break through And weep for me. A child of God. Their child. The fruit of their labor. The triumph among adversity. The culmination of centuries
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“Wow, you’re so tall! Do you play basketball?” I wish that I could say that I never heard this but phrases like that plagued me as a child and continued into early adulthood. My childhood friends and I were used to these comments. I remember one year we actually tried out for basketball, after years
Trapped In The Margins 