anti-Blackness

I have my own army who fights against injustice. I have a mother who handed out fliers boycotting grapes during Cesar Chavez’s unionizing efforts. I have an aunt and uncle who told me never to question the importance of affirmative action.

[W]hy must the acknowledgment of my beauty be predicated on how well and how often I contort to attempt to fit into some kind of ideal? Why can’t I be all the iterations of me and still be beautiful?