I just sustained another loss, it’s hit me hard and I’m still reeling. It reminded me how important the many women who cared for me throughout my life are. Women without whom I’d be dead and more seriously injured. There were a lot of them who kept me alive, without me having been their child, and they are the unsung heroes of the hood.
There was the grandma who fed me too much while teaching me that cold water gets you through your panic attacks better than the hear does. She wasn’t even related to me at all.
And the mom who got me to eat eggs the morning after I fled and needed a place to stay. She made it seem so normal.
The lady who got me to my SATs and taught her kids to be grateful through my pain. She’s the first one that had to explain to me that my life wasn’t normal. She got me through high school and her love got me beyond that even after we lost touch.
The moms that let me spend the night.
The moms that continuously fed me.
The moms that kept my secrets from their kids while they made sure I survived.
The moms without kids whose job was most certainly not to be responsible for me.
It took a village to get me here and I’ll honor the men involved, but I today, I wanted to remind you how many women kept me alive.
Each and every single one of us stands on the shoulders of people who quietly continue to cook, work, and love while they carry our weight.
So to the many people bearing my weight, thank you.