My childhood stories were of knights clad in black suits who spoke of justice and equality for not only their people, but for human beings as a whole. Perhaps that explains why I love the sixties so much. My childhood stories where blood stained with the trials and tribulations of my people. As a young girl hearing these stories, the three things that stuck out to me were; one, you’re black, two, you’re female and three, you’re Muslim. In our world today, sports, and statistics, all tell us that with three strikes you’re out. At that realization, I guessed I had just been born unfortunate.
I was born in October of 1996 to two parents who although were highly educated, lacked the mental stability to support a family .Growing up, I was a girl who had great ambitions, but after trying violin, dance and softball struggled to find something that clung to my soul, truly making me whole. I couldn't find it until I stumbled upon my group.
You see, I go to a meeting on the third Thursday of every month, and I sit with a woman who is frail boned, and whose hair is ash gray. I sit next to a man who recently announced his tenth new career. I sit with those whose battles have been won, whose regrets are a plenty, and who not only reflect on their lives, but also realize it’s not over yet. They are my friends. I sit across from a window which reflects an image of some seventeen year old black, Muslim girl with a short haircut and a blunt nose. At second glance, I see the definite contrasts between this stranger, and those at least fifty years her senior. I sit in a seat just as any other among veterans and poets, businessmen and painters, mothers, daughters and sons. Those who surrounded me, helped raise me in one way or another. They are amazing people.
Dynamic is the only word that I possess to truly explain my life, family and identity. They have prompted me to start the Young Righters, and continue to strive for the very best in everything that I do. They have encouraged me to fully examine the way I speak, interact, and coexist in his world. We're not born as single souls in this world, we are beautifully crafted. After all, the fickle fingers of fate bind us all to an unknown script interlacing us all on our journeys of existence. It takes not wishing, not pleading, but realizations, and true experiences, for a script to be rewritten with the names of those who fit their roles. Lucky for me, my script was rewritten with legends.