Sometimes I hold my breath

heart racing

watching my little girl

be free in the world.

And I wish I could remember

a time when I was.

And I wonder when

will it happen to her?

The first time

someone gives her the stank eye

for nothing more than her melanin.

It will happen.

I hold my breath

I wonder when?

When?

Ntozake said it best in For Colored Girls,

“Ever since I realized there was someone called a colored girl,

or an evil woman, a bitch, or a nag,

I’ve been trying not to be that,

and leave bitterness in someone else’s cup.”

But lately even sweet tea

tastes like bitterness to me.

I’m hurting.

Agony.

And I’m at a complete loss

on how to build my

beautiful,

confident,

smart,

amazing,

sensitive

little girl

strong enough that she can’t be broken

but not too strong

that her very existence is a challenge

to those who would

murder her

with impunity.

It’s a conundrum with no solution I can see.

And I can’t even exhale fully.

I can’t breathe

Sometimes I hold my breath.