My Friend's Dream

The imagination I want to live in

My friend Lexi sent me this text this morning.

I was gonna write a whole thing about it, about holidays and men who benefit from and languish in the emotional and physical labor of women, but decided, nah. These words stand beautifully on their own.

Thanks for this, Lex. Thank you for imagining rest and beauty for us. 💜

'Look how men love to be around the creation of women. They are drawn to our cooking/making/alchemy genius unconsciously. It’s kinda comical if it weren’t so heartbreaking. They disrespect us at every turn and yet we continue, in joy if we can. Why do we put up with their needy helpless asses?  I can move my own furniture thank you.

Rest assured that somewhere someone is breaking this curse. 

Here is my prayer: 

Goddess, let it be me.  Let my home be overrun with men in the kitchen and women resting and laughing on couches.'

Goddess, let it be us. And let it be Black women and trans women and exhausted women everywhere, resting and laughing on couches.

In the meantime, I’m eternally grateful for the women in my life who make and create and imagine beautiful worlds that include everyone, in spite of it all. They thread the needle again and again to sew us back together at our torn seams. Where would we be without them?