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One of the hardest parts of aging is being the one “still standing” when
everyone else has found their peace lying down. And Mama has seen so many go.
“We are not magic,” she says. “We are resilient. It’s not a wand. It’s work. We work harder and shine brighter to survive. Excellence for us has been a matter of necessity. In a climate where less than half a percent of venture capital funding goes to Black women, women founders still perform sixty-three percent better than all-male founding teams in the first round. With those odds, we can’t leave our success to chance and we for sure can’t depend on magic.”
mine and the speculation in the gaze he splits
“You said being whole means acknowledging all our parts. And that there were parts of me that wanted to be held, want to be needed and loved.”
“That’s everything because that means I’m good to you and you’re good to me. Being good to you means wanting what’s best for you. If there is an upper hand, baby, I don’t want it. I know I’m asking you to take a big risk, but all I can do is promise that I’ll never
try to hurt you and I’ll do everything to protect you. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you don’t regret choosing me and I’ll protect your dreams as fiercely as I chase my own.”
“How do you trust God when this kind of shit happens?”
“I want my love to be the most extravagant gift I ever give you,” he whispers, his voice deep and reverent. “I want it to be outrageously unconditional. I want it to overflow and spill into every crevice of your life, every corner of your heart because that’s what you do for me. You overwhelm me, Hendrix.”
You’ll notice I didn’t resolve Hendrix’s case. She gets her happily ever after, as all my heroines do, but we—women, Black women, any marginalized person—even in wedded bliss still have battles to fight.
