Invisible Bars

by Alecia J

“That’s the thing… people think peace is soft, but peace is a damn discipline. Keeping your calm in a world that won’t shut up? That’s power, baby girl. That’s yours.”

You think you have time, but time doesn’t ask for your schedule or what you dreamed of doing; it just keeps on rolling along, indifferent to your wishes.”

I’m convinced this nigga came out the womb mad. He probably smacked the doctor for slapping his ass to make him start crying.

That girl damn near rebooted in front of us like a possessed Alexa, as many times she gasped, blinked, and twitched! It felt like she had six different personalities, and one of them hated us personally!”

😭😭

Pride can’t talk louder than love. Remember that, and you’ll be alright.”

“May our success offend the shit out of people who can’t stand to see us win.

“It’s not always chains or jail cells keeping a person locked up; sometimes it’s guilt, obligation, family expectations, or even pride,” he explained.

“Naji, you can show up without explaining everything. You can reclaim space without reliving pain.

Karma. Funny how it always circled back. Not on our time, but always right on schedule.

“Be careful who you date and marry. The biggest prison is a home without peace. And whatever you tolerate while dating will multiply times two in a marriage. Marriage doesn’t fix dysfunction; it reveals it all. Don’t ask me how I survived; ask me what song I played on repeat when I thought my whole world was over.”

Our people built this country… with no thank you, no paycheck, no freedom! They were raped, beaten, sold, and buried nameless in the soil! And you sit here sipping from your crystal goblet, bragging on folks who would've had us picking cotton barefoot if they had it their way! You think that glass of wine in your hand just appeared? No, that came from generations of survival. And these white folks you love to praise? The ones you smile extra hard at them country club luncheons, trying to blend in with? Those are the same ones who wouldn’t have let your great-granddaddy through the front door! They were the ones buying us, not freeing us! And they damn sure weren’t praying with us either; they were preying on us! So when you say our people, just remember, they’re not just the folks you cut checks to for a catered plate. We’re the descendants of sharecroppers who built the South’s wealth with nothing but calloused hands and stolen time. We’re the prayer warriors, Black mamas who breastfed babies that weren’t ours, men and women who sang through beatings, and granddaddies who got called ‘boy’ after working eighteen-hour shifts. So don’t you ever twist your mouth to say ‘our’ people and invoke them for convenience when you’ve spent years trying to leave us behind!”