A Song Below Water (A Song Below Water, #1)

by Bethany C. Morrow

My problem is that for a long time sirens have been Black women. Not just mostly. Exclusively. Now that it’s just us, the romance is dead. Instead of inspiring songs and stories, now our calls inspire defensive anger. Our power’s not enchanting or endearing anymore; it offends.

there’s no such thing as cross-cultural empathy without cultural competency.

But individual kindness or hate isn’t what makes the world go round. When it matters, when a larger population or institution could make the difference, it seems they don’t.

I can’t decide whether I’m glad they’re listening or whether I’m annoyed that the conversation’s gone unheard for so many years. I think I’m both.