#ProtectYourDaughtersToo
Teyana Taylor penned an Instagram post dedicated to her daughter recently. She started off by writing the words, “A love letter to my sweet girl.” She went on to declare that her daughter would forever be protected. That post not only warmed my heart, but I also sighed a breath of relief just thankful that in the midst of all that has been happening, someone was affirming the beauty, brilliance and divine purpose of Black girls. Understandably, there has been a narrative focused on Black men and boys and the continued injustice and violence that our men continue to be confronted with in this country. In the past weeks, I have both seen and heard the phrase over and over: “I have a Black son” or “I am the mother of a Black son.” My mother even posted it because she is, in fact, the mother to a Black son. The attention to the plight of Black men and boys is only right and just. I, for one, believe that we should continue to draw attention to it until — as the prophet Amos puts it- “justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.” At the same time, I would like to see that same attention and energy be put towards the silent injustices that Black girls continue to face that we don’t necessarily read and hear about. Black girls need protecting too.
In 2014, when Boko Haram abducted 276 girls from the northern Nigerian village of Chibok, the hashtag #bringbackourgirls garnered attention from the global social media community. To me, this was the last time in recent memory that this level of attention was focused on Black girls from any country on such a large scale level (*though #freecyntoniabrown drew attention to the injustice of young Black girls stuck in the prison system*). Time and time again I read small headlines and tucked away news stories about Black girls going missing, being abused physically and sexually, victims of state violence or stuck in the criminal justice system. I read one story once so horrific that my anger brought tears to my eyes as I imagined the fear and pain this one 8-year-old Black girl experienced as her life was being taken from her and there was no one there to hear her cries. Unfortunately, there weren’t many there to say her name after either because that news story faded to the point where I can no longer even find it on google without doing an extensive search. My heart aches for these girls. In my book, Parable of the Brown Girl, I write,
“’Who Will Cry for the Little Boy?’, a poem by Antwone Fisher, is an emotional response to his challenging childhood spent in foster homes, disconnected from family and enduring loneliness and abuse. In the poem, Fisher repeatedly asks, “Who will cry for the little boy?,” suggesting the little boy has been left alone and abandoned with no one to help, cry out for, or empathize with him. The poem speaks to the plight of many abandoned children and begs to ask the same questions for little girls: who will cry for them too? Who will be angry for them?”
WE must cry for the little Black girls. In a NY Times article titled, “Why Aren’t We All Talking About Breonna Taylor?” Dr. Monique Morris said, “America needs an intersectional lens over what all black communities are experiencing and the strategies to address them.” That intersectionality extends to both Black boys AND Black girls. Even if the national attention does not center its focus on them, WE must protect our Black girls too. We must protect our girls while we continue to advocate for the injustices against Black men and boys. No one should ever get left out in the process. #protectyourdaughterstoo
