Black Girls Must Die Exhausted: A Novel for Grown Ups

“And never knowing which issue is the issue that’s going to get us what we need. How can you fight other people’s battles when it seems like nobody is fighting yours?”

I see you. I love you. I acknowledge your struggle. I think you’re beautiful.

You are so strong, Tabby. I can see it—I can see myself in you. But I had to realize, strong doesn’t mean invincible…and that you, Tabitha Walker, don’t have to take up every battle.” She reached for my hand and searched to meet my eyes most directly. I allowed the connection. “You don’t,” she emphasized, bringing water to my eyes

more valuable when you realize it’s running out.”

Two, I used to think to myself when I was growing up, Black girls, they sure must die exhausted. So many battles to fight,

through segregation, Jim Crow, which I saw firsthand, up through Civil Rights, and today, even. I know it must feel like a lot,” my grandmother said, registering concern in her wrinkled face.

Lah-E-Laa,

“Now, what you need to learn is if you stay ready, you don’t have to get ready. You know I stay sittin’ on ready.”

didn’t we all need the space to fall short and keep fighting? Isn’t that what we’re all asking from one another? For the space to try again with the hope that one day, somehow, we could earn that type of forgiveness—the getting over it-type, all of it.