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#whoreallycaresifyourwrong
whoiseniola · 2 years
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There’s a sense of lack in my Sunday mornings. As I watch the church-goers from my window, wearing their Sunday best with a sense of certainty, their world-views intact with a fort surrounding it.
Yet, I look at the remains of my world, the rubbles and the floating dust. And I feel a sense of peace. I can rest, with permission from the same force that imploded my world. I can fuck up - and that, today, is being kind to my humanity.
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whoiseniola · 2 years
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she wrote... she smoked...
Slow dancing in my room, with the light dimmed low, Corinne Bailey in the background singing mellow blues. A joint lit and a glass of wine as I write some sections of my thesis. 27 years old, fully paid PhD, black woman, an orphan. So many odds…
I feel acutely connected to all the other black femme academics that have gone before me, with a joint between their fingers. Weaving together the words on the page as they fight the material and immaterial hurdles of academia.
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