Little one,
I see you.
Knees pulled tight to your chest,
eyes locked on a mirror
that feels more like a prison door.
You keep knocking
but no answer comes.
I am you.
Black.
Twenty eight.
Trans.
Alive.
Alive
that word matters more
than you know right now.
But listen,
I won’t lie to you.
The road is jagged.
The nights are long.
There are days when silence
sits heavy on your lungs,
and strangers slice you open
with nothing but their eyes.
There will be times
when you wonder if the truth inside you
is too expensive to set free.
When you think
maybe it’s easier to stay hidden.
But hear me,
and hear me clear:
You are not broken.
You are not too much.
You are not asking for the impossible.
To be seen as yourself
as the woman you are
is the most natural hunger there is.
And you will feed it.
Because the girl you whisper about,
the girl you meet in dreams
she’s real.
She steps forward.
She laughs out loud.
She walks in rooms
without shrinking.
She wears dresses
that feel like belonging.
She says she
and no apology follows.
It’s not just survival.
It’s joy.
Joy that bursts sweet
like raspberries on your tongue.
Joy that moves your hips
to music you once feared to dance to.
Joy that comes
when the camera flashes
and you don’t flinch.
Family will come, too.
Not always of blood
but of love.
People who say your name
like it’s sunlight.
People who look at you
and see the fire,
the softness,
the wholeness.
Yes, the world will try you.
It will call you names.
Try to fold you small.
Tell you Black, trans, woman
is too heavy a crown.
But your spine?
It’s forged from iron.
From melody.
From the women before you
Black women who carried galaxies on their backs
and still sang freedom into the air.
You are their child.
Their echo.
Their promise fulfilled.
So don’t vanish.
Don’t choke down your truth.
Plant it.
Even in hard ground.
Even in stone.
Seeds still split rock,
still find light.
And so will you.
I am proof.
I am the woman you prayed for.
The life you thought impossible
is here.
So breathe, baby.
Loosen your fists.
Take that step forward.
Because one day,
a Black trans woman
twenty eight, radiant
will stand on a stage,
and speak this truth to you.
And that woman is me.
And I am telling you:
You make it.
You are worthy.
You are beautiful.
You are free.
