This blog excerpt comes from my post on the Southern Honey Pilgrimage.  I was thinking, as I often do, about how exposed I feel everytime I am plain speaking, describing a thing as it is.  

I understand the power and necessity of Black women telling their stories, but for me there is always a bit of hesitancy.  It is as though the internalized oppressive beliefs about visibility and appropriateness get kicked up and suck breath and words from my mouth.  I feel the need to stay quiet, so as not to draw attention to myself.  I feel that though, I am speaking my truth, and know that I am having a common experience, I am not supposed to speak about it, and if the experience is to be spoken about, then there must be someone more appropriate to tell the story than I.  So in these fearful moments, I remember the truth.  I know that I am the best and only person to tell the stories I know.  In order to thrive Black women must be able to speak openly about life as we know it.

Cynthia C Harris

ART|HEALTH|LIBERATION