My protectors were not just people who volunteered once a year with children from low-income neighborhoods or donated canned goods to the local food bank for a community service project; they were committed to building a relationship with me, my family, and my community in ways that were authentic and honored my knowledge of growing up Black and a woman in America. They respected my family; they also respected my community and saw the value in both. Even though my home and community were broken, they saw me beyond my trauma. They asked about my mother and father and knew how much I needed them
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