this paper is not your home
i am somewhere at a border that is not a border just an opening into a history that streams its way into the line of brown body after brown body waiting and make my way to the glass that separates my breath from a man that looks almost like me. when he asks why i have the passport i do, how and why and when my parents left the somewhere-that-makes-them-not-white-or-the-name-he-cannot-pronounce i am unsure where to start: ‘empire’ or ‘immigrant’ or all the time in between.
"Black women were born with two strikes against them: being black and being a woman. And, through all this, Still They Rise!"
I love the asshole type relationship.
You don’t always have to be sweet and lovey dovey all the time. You can be the assholes to each other and be mean. That’s when you know there is comfortability. Making fun of each other, calling mean names, abusing each other. Abusing as in joking around. The playful fighting. That’s another way to show love.