2022. the year in resistance…

I resisted death. I resisted self-harm. I resisted cigarettes (right up until the 361st day) and drugs and alcohol completely.

I resisted anger and resentment and the desire to wish harm on the people that have harmed me. Even those that did it on purpose. Even those that knew better and still did not do better. Even those who did not think I was worth doing better.

I resisted fear, even as fear made a home at the base of my spine, in the crook of my neck. I resisted love too because sometimes it asked so much of me and I did not believe I was up for the task. Who would you be if you truly believed you were up for the task? Who would you hold? Who would you release?

I resisted the pull of memory, down wells of trauma, through dark and lonely nights, where sometimes demons lay, and I am still seven years old and they still bare their teeth at me and I am still unprotected and I still must fend them off on my own, summoning the strength of all I have and all my ancestors have in me.

I resisted a world which tells me that I cannot be who I really am. Black. Queer. Sensitive. Angry. Confused. Unsure. Afraid. Audacious. Imperfect. Perfect. Beautiful. Broken. Unbreakable.

I resisted hate. Not my own but yours and hers and his. I resisted my own, too but maybe not as well. I resisted callousness and coldheartedness and unfeeling. I resisted shame over who I am. I resisted shame over who we are.