The safest I’ve ever felt was walking in the rain in Paris.
The safest I’ve ever felt was feeling the wind in my hair, on the beach, the sand on my feet.
The safest I’ve ever felt was in a clean house, my clothes and jewelry neatly organized, my perfumes lined on a shelf in alphabetical order, my cigarettes in a glass jar the shape of a diamond.
The safest I’ve ever felt was in a warm bed, a warm body next to mine who wants nothing more than for me to fall asleep and dream peacefully.
Other times I’ve felt safest: savoring a meal I didn’t pay for, melting ice pressed on blushing cheeks, an unpayable debt forgiven. A friend who needed me. A small green pill. Full, round breasts. The dull ache I feel when they bounce against my chest as I dance. A hospital room full of calla lilies, smiling faces, and teddy bears when I awaken into a version of me I would’ve, could’ve died to become.
It’s a miracle we can be. It’s miraculous to be here together.
But can I tell you something? This world is too much. Its darkness threatens to overtake me constantly, and yet, I stand before you, still here. Last March a man on the train tried to kill me with a switchblade on sight: Thick strong brown thighs poking out of short denim shorts and a pink crop top. I am the emblem of a raised fist. I am not done yet, and neither are we. We have we and as long as we have we, I can survive.
It’s a beautiful thing to be seen. We are all witnessed in some way when we are born, and then the world interferes: with its ideas, for the good and for the worst; with its intentions, for the best and for the worst. I didn’t ask to be here, but here I am. Do you see me?
I’ll speak for myself. My glory isn’t just in the moments I feel safest, but in the moments I know love. I know love when I brush my hair in the mornings after a ragged sleep. I know love, when I can pay my rent on the first of the month. I know love when I have a belly full of home-made chili. I know love in my mother’s eyes, when she tells me I’m the apple of hers. When she calls me by my name and reminds me I am her daughter. I know love when I compose a new melody, when I lift my voice to sing.