Being black

Being Black is a fire of survival. It is knowing your skin carries stories—of kingdoms, of chains, of freedom songs, of revolutions. It is feeling the weight of the world's gaze, yet standing tall in spite of it. It is joy that erupts in laughter at cookouts, in music that moves your soul, in creativity that shapes global culture. It is pain, yes—but also power. We are echoes of a thousand stories, stitched together by struggle, by pain, by love, by light. We are not a single voice. We are a chorus—layered, deep, and full of meaning. We are children of warriors, children of pride. We are what survived. We are what bloomed. We are the ones who turned pain into poetry, and silence into song. We are Sunday braids and freedom drums, grandmothers’ hands and revolutionary hearts. We are the history they tried to bury and the future that rises anyway. We carry both fire and tenderness. We are protest and peace— a people of sacred roots and fierce wings. We are Black. Not just in skin, but in soul. Infinite. Beautiful. Becoming. I am MIMS✒️