What I wish I could tell them when they ask why I don’t have a black lives matter sign on my front lawn

Because snow is cold

And water is wet

And fruit tastes better off the vine

And some truths don’t need to be spoken

Because I know what it is to be

Smart for

Articulate for

Cute for

A black girl

Because no matter how many times I tell my daughter that she is beloved

That her skin was a gift from God herself

That black is powerful

She will still ask for hair the color of hay bales

For skin the color of wonderbread

And I will hug her even tighter

And cry

Whisper in her ear that she matters

Because my heart stopped when my brother texted to tell me had been pulled over

I called him 37 times and held my breath for 19 minutes

Until he called me back

To say he had only been given a warning for expired plates

Because I couldn’t eat for 3 weeks after they released the video of Ahmaud Arbery’s execution

Because he could have been my brother

Because when my brother walked through that front door in one piece,

I grabbed him and held him so tight

He laughed and told me I was crushing his rib cage

The joy

The relief

In both of our eyes was silent but palpable

Because some truths don’t need to be spoken

Because too many black bodies never make it home in one piece

Because too many executions never get caught on film

Because you can be Oprah and still be questioned coming out of an Hermès store

Because you can be the president and still be somebody’s “nigger”

Because I am tired of reminding the world that I matter

Because hate doesn’t stop because of signs painted on the road to the White House

Because saying “black lives matter” isn’t a free pass or a prayer of absolution

Because Black life is Sacred

Cherished

Integral

Because we already know those things

Because, how do I respond to a world that is just learning?

Just awakening

Just realizing that my life matters

Because some truths don’t need to be spoken