So Long a Letter to Other Black Women: Our Sister Can Never Be White.
<p>I am using my <em>now</em> gloved hands to collect the kitchen trash — previously, my nails had suffered raw. I am finding and separating spilled cans and rotten food with mold buried under paper bags in an open space (not even in the appropriate receptacle)… This was a private, recurrent and literally shitstained-soiled scene. I lived among others who came and went with different names, of different nationalities, but all were white faces. I am calling on you, Black women, because this small address is meant for us: there are those of us who, upon learning about these and other “ordinary”, lifelong comings and goings — in private and public — will insist on some version of the following: “everyone has their own way ”, “we make ‘mistakes’ ”, “we have to concede and respect how some were simply educated”, “we have to negotiate our faults”, “we learn by exposure”, “nobody lives on an island”.</p>
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