How does it feel to be bone achingly tired? To wake up each and every day and to know that you were never meant to survive--to see that reflected in the images and auto-play videos of the dead black bodies that flood your social media and are splayed on the front pages of newspapers. How does it feel to be a problem? To know that your body is thought of as either a commodified object of desire or a dangerous weapon. A weapon worthy of death if you are a child in a park, a man sitting in a car reading a book, or someone seeking help for a broken down car. You seem to lose the ability to speak every time it occurs--the words wither and die on your tongue before you have even parted your lips. You find that you have nothing else to say. What is there to say? What have you not said before? You know that you will be called delusional, melodramatic, or a terrorist. Yet you know that your silence will not save you. And it will not save the ones you love.
Within this country where racial differences creates a constant, if unspoken, distortion of vision, Black women have on one hand always been highly visible, and so, on the other hand, have been rendered invisible through the depersonalization of racism. Even within the women's, movement, we have had to fight, and still do, for that very visibility which also renders us most vulnerable, our Blackness. For us to survive in the mouth of this dragon we call america, we have had to learn this first and most vital lesson--that we were never meant to survive. Not as human beings.
Audre Lorde, Transformation of Silence
Welcome to Womanist Expressions, brainchild of Caitlin Gunn and Kidiocus Carroll.