The above image was sourced from Facebook and is part of Danielle La Porte’s promotional push for her new program — which is titled “Lighter”. These images have since been removed following public outcry, and an apology has been issued that I will comment on in a moment. First, let’s talk about these images. If I’m being generous, I suspect that the use of this imagery was an attempt to make this program feel more accessible to people of color.

This world offered me no spaces, just for me So I set out to build a space that was all my own Once it was devised and developed I filled it with my treasures and my trinkets I filled it with my art and my brilliance I sat in the middle of the room that I’d created and sang until I wept And finally not knowing better, then the best that I could know, I began to fill it with my doubts and my anxieties I fed it with my fears and my worst case scenarios I painted the walls with my hunger and the need to always know; Am I good enough to be here doing this?

Black history is human history. Human history is black history. True yesterday, today and tomorrow. Unchanged by human behavior. Unaffected by human events. Black history is human history. Human history is black history.

As an African immigrant, I am no longer confused. It’s tempting to want to get into a debate. Rage with the force of a people rewritten. I feel violated not by this one sentiment, or this one instance of racism from on high…but by the millions that came before it. Aggressive and passive aggressive. Violent and issued in between the lines. Always meant to confuse and distract the terms of the debate so as to leave us helplessly lost, detached from who we really are.

I will never speak ill of another Black Woman Because I know to do so would be to acquiesce To the whims and wishes of white supremacy Intent on hiding my idols from me Dead set on robbing this bigness from me Do you know how I wept When I found that my instincts had legacy? Rock and roll - ROCK AND STOLE. How dare they take them from me

Give me your insecurity, your pain Your hungry ghosts yearning to feel satiated The wretched deluge of white ego’s demand; Send the rest away and claim this stolen land for me. Only to see, that you remain empty Never made more free By white supremacy Chained to the misery Of white supremacy Smallness consumes we And my country tis of thee Weeps through the severity Of white supremacy Urging us: Get free