recovering from yearnin'

a letter from a tired but powered up kongo soulaani

“my sisters and our cousin” shot by aunt in monroe, louisiana

tank and the bangas - open to thyself

i'm reclaiming my voice, loud and unapologetic. as 3 Stacks said, “the souf got sum to say”—and boy, do i have a lot to share. for too long, i’ve struggled to express my emotions, but silence is never an option. as a black queer person in the south, feeling unheard is all too familiar. yet, i know i’m not alone in this journey.

"it’s frightening that there’s no guarantee you’ll be loved.” - akito sohma, in fruits basket

love is a gamble—a game with no guarantees of reciprocation. this tough truth holds for all types of relationships—family, friends, or romantic ones. my parents were my first heartbreak, swiftly followed by my sisters. still, i choose to love, even when love returns the favor inconsistently. i recall a babysitter, a trusted relative, who shattered my sense of safety. despite the pain, i kept reaching for love. when she was caught, our trauma was swept under the rug.

a childhood memory hides in the shadows. i remember longing for my parents during the darkest days of abuse and neglect. people saw my “extraordinary” gifts yet treated me like shit. relatives and strangers would label me a star but offer no kindness. it’s draining to seek compassion from those who despise themselves.

“i never did know how to pace myself. i loved too hard, drank too fast, worked too late, told the truth too soon.”- lucia berlin

a black girl may feel rejection, but her divine glow radiates kindness and compassion. it’s absurd to ask artists not to perform just to be seen. as a poet, i yearn to be heard without shouting. i want people to miss me without my vanishing into thin air. in northern louisiana, we often feel overlooked. this reality is heavy, especially for black and brown people.

“i did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. i did not like to be touched because i craved it too much. i wanted to be held very tight so i would not break.” - marya hornbacher, wasted

“i crave touch, yet i flinch every time someone is close enough.” - i have become rather fearful i suppose.

“i am starved for tenderness and that is what is the matter with me and has been the matter with me for months.” - may sarton, recovering: a journal

i’ve long searched for love, but this economy and society makes it a tricky endeavor. my mind has convinced me that i should fear touch and tenderness, but i know that’s a falsehood. i burned myself, paving the way for a fear of closeness during my teenage years.

“ i am fond of lovers but i cannot love, i am too far away, am banished,” - franz kafka, diaries

my lesbianism has become my liberation, allowing me to heal instead of flee. i want to connect with my queer friends and family. heartache has touched my journey, but it won’t stop my love. i see love reflected in every baby's smile, a stranger's wave, and the sun and moon kissing my cheeks. i am love incarnate, ever yearning for more.

“i had always been calculated, distant and unavailable, not out of any sort of strategy, but out of fear. fear kept me from a lot of things, but perhaps the most poignant was that it kept me from love and opening myself to another person. it kept me from something fundamental: intimate human connection.”

i choose to stop running from love and open thyself into love while being afraid. i believe that in itself is an act of bravery.

see you guys soon for vulnerability sundaes and thank you for reading.