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Brainchild: Eternal Half A Minute

A letter to the Black girl I saw at the Joffrey Ballet School on State and Randolph, Chicago.

I saw her from above. I looked at her and there she was, standing straight and lean in her bodysuit. Everything held her tightly. And I thought… I thought she must feel secure. I hope she feels secure

She was the only Black girl I saw among the blanc

Her hair was pulled back in a bun like they like it. I think she liked it too because it gave her a slender face and a feeling of being held - up

She stood alert and toned like they like it. I think she liked it too because it supplemented her inherited confidence from those before her. Just a supplement, I hope she knows that

She sounded safe, she felt welcomed, she looked listened to. And I felt calm. She was okay.

I watched some more as she flowed across the floor. Gliding like they told her to. Pointed feet, straight curved arms and engaged muscles. Black girl fairy dusting all over the place

I shouted a whisper of hails to her from below. I was her cheerleader for an eternal half a minute. I hope she heard me in my head as I hailed her on

I hope she knew she was doing a groovy job gliding on the floor in her tight bodysuit and pulled back Black hair

I hope she knows she is going to glide on a bigger floor in a bigger room with an audience larger than her imagination

I hope she knows my loud, eternal half a minute hail will always be with her in her darkest times, especially in her darkest times

I hope she knows all the Black women and men are behind her carrying her through. She is our plus one

And when she feels she cannot glide any longer, our eternal half a minute hails will be there to float her across the room

I hope she knows this...




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