There is a particular kind of grief that lives inside some Black women — not because they feel more sorrow than others, but because they have been taught, generation after generation, that sorrow must never inconvenience the world around them.
There are moments in life when emotions gather inside of us like unfinished sentences. Not spoken, not cried, not fully felt — just sitting there, vibrating beneath the skin. It is not simply sadness, not entirely grief, and not exactly anger. It is a kind of emotional pressure that feels like a scream trapped in the ribcage with nowhere to go. And when you’ve lived long enough with emotional interruption — emotional silencing — you begin to recognize this sensation immediate
