America is Still on Fire

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Bathroom Reflections. There is something about the bathroom for me. It is my least favorite room in the house. I rush to finish so I can get out. No matter how much I try to make it pleasing to the eye, it’s still a bathroom. And yet — something about it opens up my heart, mind, and spirit’s eyes and ears. Almost as if being in that space quiets the noise and lets me hear clearly.

I think that reality mirrors my reflections on the country I was raised to serve and love. No matter how much I try to find the pleasing side, it’s still a country that hates people like me and those I love. So, tonight, instead of taking to TikTok, I felt compelled to put my thoughts into written words.

I brought four Black women into this world and raised them to love their skin, their hair, their experiences, and their culture. Honestly, I could be one of the most pro-Black Blasians around. From my roots in the rural South to my childhood and young adulthood, I passed on the same Black mama euphemisms I heard as a child.

Through the years, I’ve prayed over my daughters since the womb. Many nights, I covered them in intercession. I made hard choices to be present, even as a teenage mother with no idea what I was stepping into when I said yes to motherhood. Again and again, I gave my life to be a mother.