My grandmother once told me that nothing sounded sweeter than

“Jesus love me” coming from my lips –

I was so blissfully unaware of the weight of her words.

I didn’t know that when she rocked me to sleep, singing “Maw-maw

loves you, daddy loves you, momma loves you, sweetie pie”

She was actually sending tiny pieces of her soul through my ears

straight to her heart.

She left me with a heart broken, but I am somehow living with a

heart mended.

She found the cracks and filled them with her own.

I am not only her blood –

I am her legacy.

And I am left with a job to do.

She left me here to create –

in more ways than one.

I can create entire civilizations –

Birth them. Nourish them. Teach them.

My grandmother was a teacher –

of students. And me.

She taught me that while I can not logistically create

these entire civilizations on my own

I do not have to accept a partner that does not see value in more

than just the dripping honey between my thighs.

I am not just a warm place to lay your hands.

I am not a machine –

Made to pro-create.

My body is a vessel.

A vessel filled with knowledge –

to teach entire nations.

A womb –

to create entire nations.

Muscles –

to build entire nations.

My grandmother left me with a heart –

half hers, half mine –

with a purpose.

I am meant to create.

I am meant to teach.

I am meant for value.

And who am I to rest whenever there are nations – divided by privilege,

and melanin, and languages.

How can I lay down my hear when the very principles that my

grandmother taught me –

through hugs in the cold food aisle followed by stories of men becoming

grate lawyers and doctors and fathers –

Despite not having anything to eat but the school lunches and shared

snacks that she brought for the class with them in mind.

See, she couldn’t always remember me at the end, but she always

remembered her students.

Not just the ones born with privilege dripping down their bibs.

She created.

She taught.

She built.

So that I didn’t have to live in a world divided by race, religion, sexual

orientation.

She didn’t want a special set of stairs

built for some to reach the top with ease.

She simply wanted access to the same staircase for everyone.

I am not just a pretty face

A honey pot.

I am a creator.

I am a teacher.

I am a small piece in the bridge to equality.

Building the future.

-In my grandmother’s memory