1 A Letter to My Niece

Dear Taniah,

I remember when you told me you wanted to be White. You don’t know how much my

heart broke that day. I have regrets about how I acted; I grew angry and directed it towards you

when it was due to the world and the effects it has had on you. I remember yelling as if it was

your fault, just like how my mama yelled at me when she learned of my attempt and ideation

surrounding ending my life. I was as unfair to you as she was to me; I am so sorry. The world

has given you debilitating standards to meet and hurdles to leap just as they’ve done us. I had

this false hope that it wouldn’t reach you due to your young age. I intentionally ignored the fact

that I was met with those same struggles at the age of five. I can sit here and question why, why

would you wish to change your identity? Your culture? But that would be meaningless as I know

the answer. Being Black you’re faced with inherent obstacles the world just expects you to

co-exist with. Your culture is constantly defaced and robbed from you and is presented as “

urban.”. Your cries are continuously ignored and deflected; I am so sorry. I can’t protect you

from this, I could hardly protect myself, and I am mad about it.

Why does the baby girl I have raised since she was five years old have to grow into a

sense of maturity to simply survive this society? You are now thirteen, a teenager, and you have

developed a love for yourself. A love for your hair, which curls, coils, and breaks the most

durable of combs. A love for your skin, which makes the most beautiful canvas for any color. A

love for your home, despite being small, underserved, and dangerous. You love your Black

identity and culture, but it hurts that you were taught to despise it. It hurts that your parents

despised you for not being light-skinned. Despised that you did not have finer hair.
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It hurts that you had to learn from me and not your parents, I know it hurts you too. That

longing for your mama and daddy has dwindled; I am no longer wiping your tears or kissing

your head acting as their replacement. For you see me as a separate person and not just an

extension of your parents. I am your confidante, your spokesperson, and your auntie. I love you

more than you could ever imagine, and I love witnessing your growth as a person. I see a strong

Black woman developing in front of me, who is still trying to be a little version of me despite

almost being taller than me now. I want to tell you to stop growing just so I can have more time

with you. So you don’t have to witness society with no bars held when you become an adult. I

want more time with my little niece because I don’t want to let her out into the world alone. But I

know you’re ready; you don’t even need me anymore. But know that I will be here no matter the

time, day, or age. For you’re my little niece, and I love you for the rest of my days.

Love,

Auntie