Updated: Jun 23
To the white women walking in solidarity with black women in the fight against white supremacy and racial injustice, it brings me great hope to know that we can peacefully coexist and resist systems that destroy people based on the color of their skin and curl of their hair. I believe that having conversations with you about race and privilege can advance our understanding and empathy for experiences unlike our own.
I believe that through our shared advocacy for humanity, we can remove barriers that separate us.
And while, I enjoy exchanging smiles and cheering glasses of wine with you at the end of a workday; And while we have found commonality in the fact that above race, we are all women;
I must reinforce that Black sisterhood remains the core of my mission.
I am not saying that friendships with white women hold no value; they do. But when I consider the relationships that have helped heal my spirit, my self-image, my joy, and my rising, it has been Black women who lifted me. Who walked with me. And when I couldn’t walk, those Black women, they fell to their knees, they crawled with me, and they prayed with me.
When I look back over my life, and as I look to the future--I know that Black sisterhood is where I can find rest. I know that Black sisterhood is where I can catch my breath.
My first day of college, I searched the room and sat next to the only other Black woman in the class. I remembered the Black women who taught me to let my hair stand tall when the world told it to lay flat. I remembered the Black woman who shared her network and gave me my first job in the big city. And the Black women who sang songs affirming that I am pretty. I remembered that it was Black women who raised me to be a queen without all the material things. I remembered any and every Black woman in between.
Black sisterhood is a sacred space where I don’t have to translate my needs.
Nor my colloquialisms.
My laughter can be fearlessly loud and deep.
My cries are felt without words.
It is in Black sisterhood, where I found power in my pain.
And healing in my dance in a world that hides us in shame.
I meet eyes with a black woman. I do not know her name.
Yet and still, my gaze proclaims...
I see you, black woman. Yes, you are here.
I feel you, black woman. Yes, you are loved.
I need you, black woman, for you are medicine for the little Black girl that lives inside of me.
The little black girl who craves to be free.
Here, in Black sisterhood, I can be fierce and delicate.
I can shed tears and be strong.
I can be the little girl and the woman I’ve been all along.
Black women, while we must join hands with the world to protect our born and unborn,
shifting narratives from torn to reborn.
We must continue nurturing what we know to be true.
When we come together, there is nothing we can’t do.
And in our fight for civil rights, let us remain hand in hand.
Let us continue to raise our voice and sway our hips in dance.
Let us release divine black feminine energy when we gather in our sacred place.
And let us fearlessly plaster Black sisterhood in America’s face.
Desire Grose is a contributing writer for BSW Chronicles. You can find out more about her by following her on Instagram @desiregrose.