Some people can take up too much space by simply being, that by existing, some people can stifle others.
Show her that she does not need to be liked by everyone. Tell her that if someone does not like her, there will be someone else who will. Teach her that she not merely an object to be liked or dislike...
She would not place her memory on things that strangers could barge in and take away.
She wished, fleetingly, that her mother was not her mother, and for this she felt not guilt and sadness but a single emotion, a blend of guilt and sadness.
She told him how she very much wanted God to exist but feared He did not...
Race is totally overhyped these days, black people need to get over themselves, it’s all about class now, the haves and the have-nots,
Pero no les ocurrió nada.
No todas las mujeres son feministas y no todos los hombres son misóginos.
Mama had greeted him the traditional way that women were supposed to, bending low and offering him her back so that he would pat it with his fan made of the soft, straw-colored tail of an animal. Back...
Love was a kind of grief.
Lots of liberal white folks are looking for black friends.
La cultura no hace a la gente. La gente hace la cultura
Is love this misguided need to have you beside me most of the time? Is love this safety I feel in our silences? Is it this belonging, this completeness?
In the recent US elections, we kept hearing of the Lilly Ledbetter law, and if we go beyond that nicely alliterative name, it was really about this: in the US, a man and a woman are doing the same job...
If she likes makeup, let her wear it. If she likes fashion, let her dress up. But if she doesn’t like either, let her be. Don’t think that raising her feminist means forcing her to reject femininity....
I was stained by failure.
I knew what I wanted to run to. But it didn’t exist, so I didn’t leave.
I have chosen to no longer be apologetic for my femaleness and my femininity. And I want to be respected in all of my femaleness because I deserve to be.
I can’t believe it. My president is black like me. She read the text a few times, her eyes filling with tears. On
How easy it was to lie to strangers, to create with strangers the versions of our lives we imagined.