How to Say Babylon: A Memoir

by Safiya Sinclair

I’d watched the brown hull of that cocoon rive open in its jar, saw its wet orange and black wings nudge and emerge, as my siblings and I sighed in awe. We had wanted to hold on to that awe when it was not ours to keep. We kept that butterfly in that jar until its wings grew moist, flapping slowly, incapable. By the time we decided to let it out of its cage, there was no flight left in it. One day, I promised myself. I would let myself out of this cage, and fly.

I wanted more, so much more than this fixed inheritance. I wanted to hold the world in all its mouthwatering beauty, to forge some version of myself I could believe in. I was determined to write myself back into the frame, to grab hold of the bull and stamp my name on his tongue.