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When I do, I notice that how I move and stand are survival tactics acquired from my mother who was the first survivor I knew.These deeper looks into the mirror were inspired by men who have broken my heart and rejected me. I have always felt like I carried too much between my ears. When I name my blackness, I am not solely talking about my skin color; I am talking about how I move, talk, and react.
I rarely get opportunities to take a survey of my reflection in ways that are not just ensuring I am alive.
Could these white partners serve as a type of escapism from their work that so heavily centered black identity and white domination?