Dear Kamise Lashawn,
The name that you were born with, yeah you the one with the chip on her shoulder, the hidden object camouflaged in a mirage of American family standards.
I am addressing this memo to you, yeah you the introvert, angry baby with the solemn look. Right now you feel lost, confused and things are happening so fast in your small world that you disappear into the lining. Now- you don’t matter much gone is your glory, the attention, the affection the simple words - I love you.
You can no longer speak out, your voice has grown smaller than you and as you grow bigger in those size 10 shoes at age 10 your voice becomes speechless.
You watch the others and take your place in the shadows. You relinquish your power again and again; first there was Christie the brown skinned long haired doll who sat upright in her baby fat, when you pulled her hair it would grow longer and longer right before your very eyes! She was snatched away given to another child. Sally the blonde haired blue-eyed doll was purposefully left behind in the swelling heat of a South Carolina crummy motel and Dashund the long skinny dog that befriended you when no one recognized your existence. You were punished for feeding, and caring for another living being.
The icing was the violin your final retreat into your room, you’d sit not understanding how your life changed so quickly, drastically, no more James the one who treated you like his own. No freedom to think or talk other than what the Nation thought was appropriate. So you’d reach up into the closets top shelf -you’d bring her down stroking the case that housed it opening it slowly like the wrapper on a piece of smooth milk chocolate that piece of chocolate that you wanted to last longer than everyone else’s. You would tuck the wood instrument under your chin just like the teacher showed you, remove the bow and begin the chords on Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb. Smelling the wood it was a scent that enlighten your soul and lifted your spirit floating away from 532 Randolph Street.
I remind you of this I remind you when you feel that you shall not speak or when your introverted self makes a surprise drop by (hello its me shhhh). I remind you of this to strengthen you to remember there are others like you before you and after you who will be shut up, shut down and feel powerless. You will earn your place on the mic you will finally stand up and shout, jump up and down and pound your fist until they believe you insane but you will have found your voice! Do not apologize do not relent do not shut up or shut down release what has been bottled up breathe in the nostalgic smell of that violin let it wake you like smelling salts, continue to raise the volume speak up against and out you have earned it! You stayed your place long enough.
You will be amazed that Kamise, yeah you the introvert the one hiding in her closet dialoguing with friends who do not exist in human dimensions the one who hid her face in shame over something she had no control. Your time will come my sweet lovable loving awesome beautiful young girl your time will come!!!!!
Learn more about Kameelah HERE!
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