It’s been, what, like, two months?
I have thought of you, Reader, often, and this space where we wrestle and lament and giggle.
I have contemplated my failure to produce, and then chided myself for reducing my words and work to an act of production and consumption.
I have also, admittedly, languidly luxuriated in irresponsibility.
And I have thought many, many times: they wouldn’t want to hear this mishmash of thoughts that have been my brain for a while? What would they do with this?
In February, I made a promise to write honestly, imperfectly, and just keep going. I broke that promise to myself because I am fearful of being unhelpful, redundant, or in process (you know that feeling of being done yet unsatisfied?). Isn’t that sad? I am sorry. I’ll do better.
It’s a glorious mess in my head right now. Thoughts have sped through me, undisciplined and feral. I have questions. Can I share some with you? So many questions:
Do they make sweatbands for under-boobs?
Should I write about the SBC or Shiny, Happy People or dumb internet comments by small men with big mouths? What will it cost my soul?
Can I take an antibiotic and a probiotic at the same time?
How does imagination thrive in environments of chronic discrimination and violence?
Why can’t I let go of putting oils in my hair? (And why do the gray hairs act so differently?)
Will white American Christians ever have a spiritual movement centered on the admission and confession of only their sins, followed by repentance and repair rather than PR and forced forgiveness?
Is the Seventh Generation toilet cleaner bottle smaller now, even though they charge the same price?
In a society where Black women are rarely considered feminine, how do trans rights intersect with my body as I move through society?
Can we get a new name for menopause? It’s not accurate.
Tori Bowie’s last moments (that’s all I can muster in words).
Can I live? Can we just…live?
Why are billionaires repeled by the concept of alleviating suffering, when they LITERALLY have the capital to transform lives?
Why was I not encouraged to build a home and a future with my family and friends? I would love to live in community with my loved ones. Leaving home at 18 is a scam.
Why is good health insurance in this country for the select few?
What rites of passage have we left by the wayside in the name of modernity? How has our journey to adulthood suffered as a result?
I got lots of questions. Do you have answers, Reader? Can you relate? Or do you have your own follow-up questions? Answer me (almost) anything*.
*Don’t be a jerk
Hi Sharifa, reading these questions through a second time, the follow up question that feels pressing to me is in regards to “What rites of passage have we left by the wayside in the name of modernity?” I’m curious for context, it seems like maybe you have some in mind?, and if you don’t that the trigger for the question seems like it would be enlightening to understand. If you don’t mind accepting HW from a disembodied stranger who maybe has never commented in your space before. Internet relationships are weird.
You better believe it