A Love Letter to My Village

To those who made me:

My heart is full of your love. My mouth sings your praises. My mind is eager to be stretched for your sake.

I am realizing now more than ever that no one does anything by herself.

More, I am surrounded by constant reminders of the fact that I am but the single product of countless generations of struggle, sacrifice, and, above all, preparation. It was done on the part of the members of my village — the many mothers, fathers, friends and neighbors who have dedicated themselves to my advancement.

To my people, I say:

Thank You.

In a world that is quick to take black girls for granted you look at me and affirm my life’s value by simply seeing me. You celebrate my successes and sit with me in my shortcomings. You keep me safe in the knowledge that there is always learning for me.

I am Grateful for Your Guidance.

You wait with me in both my accomplishments and trials. You show me that true love looks like a promise to remain present and place that knowledge of it in my heart. I see God in you.

Yet, your willingness to hold me accountable inspires me. You use your own experience to show me a right way of doing things and remain patient me while I learn to do better.

Continue, Please.

Within any village exists strength. My reasons to continue lie in the tears of my great-grandfather, kitchens of my aunties, sweat of my mother and words of my grandmother. I ask how much I am loved and have no answer. The spirit of my ancestors is more than sufficient for me — it is everything.

My power rests with those who know me best.

“You have taken me in. I am a tiny bit of your greatness. I swear to you that I shall never make you ashamed of me.” ~ Zora Neale Hurston