Letters of Love (Part I) by Kaula Thomas

Photo by Samuel Aboh on Unsplash

Dear Melanated Queen who wears the hat of a Fearless Warrior, an Empathetic Lover, and a Nurturing Mother all in one,

Love brought me here to you. I’ve sensed for some time now that you, me, we as black women haven’t been receiving our fill of love, support, and community. At some point, we got so caught up in creating just that for our beautiful black men and boys, we forgot about ourselves. I’m here to say we deserve to be remembered too.

Over the past few months, as a community, we have felt an overwhelming array of emotions. We have been livid, disgusted, grief-stricken, numb, and exhausted. What is worse? We have been all these things for quite some time now. The thought itself IS exhausting. Nonetheless, we persist to push forward. We pick up our kings’ crowns when they’ve fallen out of defeat, we stand between them and the fury of White America even when that fury is in the shape of a bullet or baton, we mobilize in the streets to avenge their deaths and memorialize who and what they were to us!

...Girl, are YOU okay?

There’s a whole movement going on in OUR community for OUR community, but the Breonna Taylors, Sandra Bland’s, Aiyana Stanley-Jones's, and Eleanor Bumpers's who have also lost their lives at the hands of police are an afterthought!

…Girl, are YOU okay?

Because I’m not. We fight for, protect, feel for, and nurture damn near everybody! I LOVE how much we queens love, but when are we going to start demanding that same energy in return? When are we going to turn some of that love inward, to what I would argue is the most isolated group of individuals in America?

Photo by Matheus Ferrero on Unsplash

You, me, we don’t deserve to carry the weight of fighting for everyone and wondering if, in the event of our deaths, the memories of us suffer a second death under the brackets of a hashtag. I’m here to lift some of that weight off of you.

Love brought me here because I need it. And girl, I know you need it too.

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