Grown

by Tiffany D. Jackson

“Wow. It’s like . . . you can really sing,” Hannah says in disbelief. “You sound just like Beyoncé!” The other teammates nod in agreement. My heart deflates a bit. I love Beyoncé, but they use that comparison because that’s the only black singer they know.

There’s nothing normal about being trapped in the house, taking care of kids you didn’t birth.

Donny Hathaway, “A Song for You”

I feel lighter, my chest an egg cracked open, sunny yolk spilling out, leaking love all over the room.

Trying to reclaim your life is a lot like drowning. You attempt to stay above water as waves of new information hit you sideways, carrying you further into the unknown. People throw life preservers, but the ropes can only reach so far, and once a riptide catches you by the ankle, all you can do is wonder why you ever thought you’d be OK jumping into the deep end, when you could barely manage the shallows.

Yo, Malcolm X said it best. “The most disrespected person in America is the Black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the Black woman. The most neglected person in America is the Black woman.”

She saw him disappear by the river. They asked her to tell what happened, only to discount her memory.

This book is about the abuse of power. It’s about the pattern of excusing grown men for their behavior while faulting young girls for their missteps.