Phoebe Wai-Yan Lau

…ause then I thought about the helplessness of me. And I wondered who I could pull from my own rib — who crawls forth from the flesh of Black women when we are lost? When we need help? To be seen? Heard? Loved? Nurtured? Granted compassion?

…plex and simple. So much of the world sees Black women and girls as servants, as a means to an end, accessories for completion. Even our lovers, even our mothers and grandmothers, even us. By being born with the privilege of no…

In loving him, I have learned him. I have learned his fears and his securities. I have learned his softnesses, his brick walls. I can know these things. My husband is a Black man, I have had to learn Black men to survive. We both walk the streets feeling like prey — but sometimes I am dodging the bullets of men who look like him. My marriage has been a constant reconciliation of that. Loving Black men has been a constant reconciliation of that. My brother, my husband, my father — the Black men I love. They hurt like I hurt and they hurt me in…