Some Words To Use When Writing Things:

Naomi Campbell, Vogue, Photo by Peter Lindbergh, June 1990.

Fuck this. Fuck this post so much Do not tell me your best friend would not sit at your lunch table for three fucking days just staring blankly at your old seat wishing that you were there to fill the space with laughter.

Do not tell me your younger brother would not break down in the middle of class because you guys started talking about your favorite type of subject in school.

Do not tell me your mother would not stare into the mirror with trembling lips wishing she could be bringing you home from the hospital rather than having to escort you away in a casket to the nearest graveyard.

Do not tell me your father would not begin working the night shifts to distract himself of the silence at home because you’re not up until the ungodly hours of the night talking to what’s-his/her-face on the phone because you guys are so in love.

Do not tell me your boyfriend/girlfriend would not go into your room and put on the last hoodie you wore trying to desperately imprint your scent onto their skin so they never forget your smell.

Do not tell me your friends would not stare blankly at the gymnasium wall after the principal has announced your death to the entire school making no sound trying to convince themselves this is just another one of your impractical jokes.

Do NOT fucking TELL ME this bullshit line of how the stars would still appear the sun would still come out the earth would still rotate and the seasons will still change because without YOU you lil beautiful piece of human being none of these people will want ANY of that to happen

About an hour ago, I was in Walmart looking for my conditioner because today is wash day for my hair. As I’m looking for my product, this older white lady approaches me and she says, “Excuse me, miss. Please don’t be offended by this.” And usually when white people tell me not to be offended, 9 times out of 10, whatever they are about to say is going to be offensive af.

Anyway, she follows it up with, “My husband and I just recently won our custody battle with our foster daughter and she means the world to us. She’s a beautiful African American girl and her hair looks a lot like yours. But I’m afraid because I don’t know what to do with her hair. It’s a lot different from mines and our other children and we are at a total loss. I’ve tried looking up the YouTube videos and my husband went to the braiding shops so they can teach him how to properly braid her hair, but he’s still pretty new and it will be a while before he gets used to it. Do you have any tips you can give me? If you don’t have the time, it’s okay, really! I just needed a little advice because I want her to look beautiful.”

Y’all. swear I almost started crying on aisle 6. So for the last 30 minutes, I spent my time talking to her and what products to use and how to properly detangle and comb her hair with the proper tools and what not to do with natural hair. And I showed her a bunch of easier to follow natural hair tutorials on YouTube and saved them for her. (I also had to create a YouTube account for her so she could save it for later.) but omfg, she was so sweet, and I could tell that she listened to every single thing I had to say and she took little notes on her little notepad.

And what really filled my heart was the fact that her husband actually taking classes from African braiding shops. And she showed me a picture of him wearing a little sweater vest and loafers in a little shop surrounded by beautiful black women showing him how to braid black hair and even the lady he’s braiding on is guiding his hands. And omfg. Bless these old white people and their black daughter who I know have new loving parents because they are willing to step out of their comfort zone just to make her feel and look beautiful.

I really hope our paths cross again one day, Mrs Cicilia. 💖💕

“When I look at my life and its secret colours, I feel like bursting into tears.”

— Albert Camus, A Happy Death (via coral)