Letter 4 : Dear Black Men

I truly don't know what it's like to walk in your shoes. I don't know what it's like to not be able to walk down the street wearing a hoodie, or what it feels like to not be able to stand on the edge of a corner store and not recieve crazy looks from cars passing by. I don't know what it's like to not get a promotion because your mother chose a name that abides in creativity, flunts in its colorful build, yet too “black” for the world we live in. I don't know the fear you may face being pulled over late at night, or for God’s sake, even in broad daylight. I truly don't know what it's like to feel like the face of a race. Making one wrong move and the weight of our ancestors, slaves, on you. I don't know why the color of your skin can cost you your life. So yeah I don't know what it's like to be a black man.

But what I do know is that your life not only matters, but is needed in this world. You are loved and cared by so many. You are a jewel and a spearhead to this culture. Your creativity bleeds out; infiltrating into the pages of VOGUE. Every magazine reflecting you, yet edits out your image, never giving you enough credit. This world needs you no matter how much it tries to suppress you. Don't shut up and simply do what you are told. This world may try to stuff your mouth with gauze until you gag out its orders. It may try to take every God given right you have. But, one thing I do know, is that you are a king and forever you will be. Continue to rise up like one. Don't let your voice be silenced. Your melanin is not unhinged, it reflects the light of a million suns. You aren't crazy or too ghetto, you’re not too negro. You are you and that's enough. Stand by your brothers and sisters; support them.

I support you.

I love you.

Black men you matter to me and to this world even if those words aren’t spoken enough.

Sincerely, 

a black woman.

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