this is for my unheard sisters.

So, instead of me diving into the history of black women I want to share my heart with you. I have been struggling with how to start this and what I needed to say. I then started reading His Testimonies My Heritage and the intro stopped me.

Kristie says, in His Testimonies My Heritage, “there is an ongoing conversation around the silencing of women’s voices, and this is even more pronounced among women of color. In addition to this silencing, many women of color feel that they are not seen—not seen as divine image-bearers, not seen as valued members of the body of Christ, not seen as marriage partners, not seen as capable teachers of God’s word.” (19)

I resonated with this statement. This passage explains many conversations I am still having with my black friends. So, what I want to do is write a letter. I want to remind my black sisters that you are not alone. I want others that read to see a small glimpse of the pain we are dealing with. This is a response to the tears and loud shouts of passion given in the past few weeks and months.

Dear Black sisters,

I am struggling, as I am sure some of you are. I'm also avoiding, as I am also sure some of you are. There are a lot of emotions that I am not ready to deal with, that I am sure some of you are not ready to deal with. Black women, our history is hard, ugly, beautiful, and filled with strength.

I am tired. In between, realizing how much pain and hardship we have already gone through and will go through, and having to take up the heavy mantle of the strong black woman, I can imagine you are as well.

These past few weeks we have had to look in the mirror and realize there have been many voices attempting to shape us. We have been told that we are too loud, too much, and too black. We have at times lost a grip on who we are. We have forgotten our worth and we have taken on an identity that is not ours.

So let me remind you, I am grieving with you. I am crying for all of the chemically induced ways we have tried to fit in. I am crying for the moments when our kinks and our coils brought about unwanted hands and negative attention. I am crying for the moments that our word was not taken because surely the other side is more truthful and we knew deep down inside it's because the other side was supposedly a better picture of what it means to be a woman.

Know that I am angry and I want to tell off every single person that tells us that we are pretty for a black girl. Know that I am holding back a stream of words for people that still don't see a problem in the world that we are living in.

Understand that I have also cried myself to sleep because of the many different ways that we are told that our being black is just not good. That this heaviness that comes with more melanin includes a life of struggle. The pain of a future in guarding future generations from the ugly truth that there is hate given to us with just one glance.

I have avoided this letter because it hurts. I avoid this letter because I don't want to have to do the work that is a part of moving past the pain. However, I am choosing to step into the pain knowing I will be there for a while to let you know that our worth is not found in ANY of this.

For so long we have allowed broken people to give us broken identities. We have allowed broken people to tell us where our worth comes from and how much of it we deserve. I NEED you to know that your worth is not found in the ugly phrases, looks, and thoughts that have been told to you. Instead your worth is found in God.

This is a simple truth and I don't want to overcomplicate it with too many words. So, I'll just use scripture, Psalm 139. You, my Black sister, are fearfully and wonderfully made. He made no mistake in creating you because he took his time intricately weaving you together. He hears your words before you say them and sees you at all times.

I pray that you can hold onto that simple, but profound truth. Sister you are loved by God. He created you and sees you. Take your pains and every emotion to Him. And sister your pain is real, valid, and understood. You are not alone and know I am here and I am praying for you!

Continue being your beautiful, proud black self! And have a fantastic Juneteenth.

Sincerely,

Mojadesinuola Adejokun