I’m afraid. I’m afraid of saying the wrong thing, of being misunderstood. I’m afraid the pearl will never form inside this shell. The minerals I am made of— how will they solidify my pittance of wisdom, bring forth the revolution? But these are the fears of a caucasian the world-is-my-oyster crustacean, of a white female homemaker. I have traveled, I have written, I have swam in ocean’s waters while fires burned. While hands and hearts lay bare on[...]
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