I realize now, having heard a version of this story, yet again, that as gut-wrenching as these stories are, among black girls they are not uncommon; they are not even remarkable. So many of the highly educated black women you see went to hell and back before reaching the age of 18. Education has become our drug of choice.
[…]For black girls, educational achievement is not always the best indicator of a stable, happy home life. For me, education offered a goal and reward structure that was predictable and that I could control, simply by doing what was asked of me. In the midst of so many things I could not control, school was attractive. I imagine that for many black girls the narrative is similar."
— Brittney Cooper, "A black girl’s constant fear: Why I thought I’d never live to see 33" (via ethiopienne)
What I’m looking for isnt worldly, it’s not small - and my man shouldn’t be either.
What do you want for your birthday? What do you want just because?
Do you trust that I would do all that I could to get that for you?
I don’t want predictable love. Nor do I wish for it to be volatile.
I want it big. Explosive. Dynamic. Electric.
Give me pictures of a hundred sunsets and then lets go chase after each one.
I’ll give you the clouds and watch you rest.
Be a tornado and I, a hurricane.
Be a rocky cliff and I, a volcano.
Be anything but ordinary. Anything but predictable. Love me large. Love me ceaselessly.