There is a heartbreaking tenderness about black folks. A majestic story that is spoken through stolen slaves + subjugated bodies. Our faces are centuries away from our soul; yet we carry the smile of humanness. An accessibility we would allow if we knew how to enter our own spirits. It’s evident that our feet carry the shackles of insecurities proven to shatter relationships when we come up against our own likeness. We struggle to love due to the threats that were made to keep us isolated. Oh, how I love being black. Did you think I wouldn’t after I divulged some of our frailties? Despite our struggles, we are larger than life, precious jewels that create art through our pain while we use laughter as a salve to heal so that we may survive yet another day.