Time.

Give Yourself Time. Choice.

Time.

Thursday 17th of October 2019

I am my mother’s daughter,

I strip down to skin and that’s all I see.

I am my mother’s daughter,

My fear is inherited,

A pendulum that swings out further and further,

Back and forth through generations.

I am my mother’s daughter,

I am the fear she placed in me.

I have cared for this fear, nurtured it, cultivated it.

I have never laughed at it or chided it,

I’ve loved and protected it.

It in turn has whispered, shrieked and bellowed.

It’s protected me, kept beasts at bay,

Or so it says.

My fear has kept me afraid, kept me isolated, kept me apart. It’s made it so that my whole life has been looking out at people I admire, things I want to be a part of. It has been the voice in my head telling me I don’t belong, that I will only disappoint. It tells me that I am wrong, that how I feel is wrong, the things I do and say are wrong, everything about me is wrong, and everyone sees it and hate me for it.

I am my mother’s daughter,

I am a black woman born into a world

Where neither of these things are valued.

I am my mother’s daughter,

I am the fears given to me and held onto by me.

I am all my failures and all of hers,

I am all the blame she has taken and all the blame I have given.

No one told me to hold these fears so tight,

To fold them into my bones and blood.

Only I can take the blame for that,

Only I can fix this generational hurt.

Only I can walk the history in my blood,