I am thinking about Renisha McBride this morning.
I am thinking about the missing girls in Chibok. I am thinking about Aiyana Stanley-Jones, and Marissa Alexander, and the 65,000 missing Black women and girls in the US.
I am thinking about all of them and about all of us, about you and about me.
I am thinking about Black women this morning.
I am thinking about all the ways we are devalued and maligned and rendered invisible, criminalized and disappeared and killed.
And normally, this thinking would get me down.
But not today.
Because today, I am also thinking about all the ways we persevere, and are resilient. All the ways we grow and heal and build. All the ways we work through the trauma of being Black and female in a world designed to break us, to craft beautiful existences. All the ways we love ourselves and each other in spite of the world we have inherited. All the ways we struggle together to transform this world.
And I am reminded of who. we. are.
They think we don’t know nothin’ but singing the blues.
Today, I am singing a warrior woman’s song in the names of Yaa Asantewa and Nzinga, Ida B. Wells and Harriet Tubman née Araminta Ross. In the names of Ella Baker and Fannie Lou Hamer. In the names of Maya Angelou and Ruby Dee and Renisha McBride and Anna Brown and Rekia Boyd and Charity Hicks.
Today, I call your names.
Sisters, Remember your names.
Ase. Ase. Ase O.