Worker.

Worker.

I am not a worker, I am a writer. 

My words matter. They have a meaning, they have an impact on people.

And not just the words in the school newspaper. The words I write on here, or any other medium that I choose.

No matter what I write, my words say that you will not silence me. You will not shut me up for your comfort.

My words represent my mother, my aunt, my grandmother. They represent my friends and cousins. They represent every Black woman who has had her voice silenced. 

My words are beautiful in ways that your mind can't even comprehend. My words take more thought than you've probably done in the past year. My words are more healing than any therapy session and louder than any concert

Yes. My words are often angry. But they are dynamic and passionate. They make you think. They make you feel. They cut, but they also heal.

And the best part about my words, is that I don't need anyone's permission to write them. Not you, not society, and not your religious convictions, not your pre-conceived notions. 

They are free of care for stereotypes and judgements. They come faster than they can even be written. They are permanent, they are strong. 

They will not be moved.

I will not be moved.

I will not be stopped by your coded language, and your subtle attacks.

Worker.

Worker?

Is that the best you've got?