It's arguable, whether there is a fair season to be a woman of color. We are construed as the strong, impermeable woman. The infallible, accomplished woman. The hurting woman, discarded woman. What maps the nature of a twin pain?
This is a plea. To my sisters of color, at Emerson campus and beyond, I am pleading for the prioritization of self. Specifically: yourself. The stray ache, skin-whisper, xylophone bone. Your body is a response; your body speaks. It's a language we often treat with haste. In the process of its translation, we must treat ourselves with care, leaving no comfort untouched.
You are a warrior for getting where you are. Never forget that. Never forget that we, as women of color, are a cosmos of shape, color, sensitivity, intellect and interest. We represent every nook of identity, we balance burdens others would never dream of assuming. As Rupi Kaur puts it so eloquently:
We can't tell what others’ stories might be. Considering that, there’s no common cure-all for the abrasions our bodies speak. We stand as sacred people. Never assuming what we don't know, inclined to listen and hold. However, in the spirit of holding space, we sometimes forget to preserve room for ourselves.
In the words of Audre Lorde: “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.”
You are not lethargic. You are not behind. You are magnificence in being; you are magnificent for being. Still, we are led to believe that nurturing this ever-changing, dynamic self is self-absorbed and time consuming. But I have to ask:
What can you nourish, if not yourself?
In paying tribute to yourself, relish this: You are a fighter for finding your peace. And if Audre Lorde says so, it has to be true.