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chermelle d. edwards, golda brooklyn
my great-grandmother walked through front doors while my great-grand father walked through b(l)ack ones.
I’m supremely aware and grateful that the freedom with which I move in this world she paid for, by being willing to not hold hands, not share stools and not drink publicly until she wasn’t willing.
I am grateful for the legacy of stories told to on summer visits in the heat of Texas from a face that the world told me was old versus wise; used versus seasoned, stubborn versus entitled. I’m grateful she marched the women of our family into its history books.
as a woman of color(s), this platform is to tell stories, take you into front doors of places whose own tales add meaning to mine, whose colors are human. thank you for following me here and on any platform that you see fit twitter, facebook, instagram.
this cookie cappuccino is for you mrs. coleman, we all go through front doors now. 🖤