being witnessed

In all honesty, the issue with visibility started before I even had language. This fear was given to me, a family heirloom, an artifact. My trauma looked like my mama’s trauma, and her mama, and her mama before that. The cycles are unending especially because growing up this visibility wound was called “shyness” or “meekness,” and was praised.

This is little girl me, crying because I was afraid of cameras. There was always something there for me about being seen.

A little Black girl that goes unnoticed can sometimes be a safety in a world that does not know what to do with her.

In 2018 I told my momma though that when you raise a little Black girl to believe that her body is not her own, then she becomes a disembodied woman. I’m finding that this visibility ritual this month is very much about being embodied in a whole new way. Staying in my body while being witnessed, and while being aligned and not donning the label of shy.

You will find me here
sitting
unmoved
in my own skin.