There isn’t one thing. I could never point to one work.
Your words are the powerful lines of gold through Kente.
Hand woven with care and an air of royalty. Swinging between pride and memory.
Tereneh Idia,
You are a book. You are words and precepts. You are form and fashion. You are truth and justice.
I have smiled at your adventures. I have clapped my hands at your statements of radical thriving for us.
I scour the paper of the city for your light. Always on. Always right where we need it.
When I lived through the summer, I felt I kept a promise to you.
When I side-eyed a Juneteenth holiday with no reparations, I felt a Tereneh birthday bring my eyes forward again. Determined to wear my history with all its style and grace and beauty wrapped in Luxurae (hey Mia!)
We “kiki” and “that’s right” having never had the pleasure of immediate company.
But whether online, inline, hook line or book line I am so happy I was blessed to read any of your lines.
So I suppose this is a hug of sorts.
Distanced physically.
A humble attempt to thank you for every article that freed me.
A simple note of gratitude for your fighting energy. And your spirit of overcoming.
I appreciate you.
I celebrate you.
I wrote this to testify of how many times I have read your words and grown.
Indeed to testify that “So much of our innovation, knowledge, community, and love for each other is not known.”
But for this moment of nexus where Nia (purpose) meets Kuumba (creativity) I wanted you to know that your book of sunshine, hope and realness means so very much to me.