America is a mirror. It can move and mold into whatever is opposite her. I believe she yearns to see us, to feel our warmth. It may be more true to her then we’ve been told. What a privilege to see your reflection in her framework. For me, my reflection shows up in pockets around this country. It’s on the grounds of Spelman college, it’s at the west end, it boils through shops in Leimert park, it’s Harlem. In its marrow I see me. Bustling corners of this country where my culture is bred, handled with care, and intentionality.

I’d force you to see that Americana. The masc, the femme, the black and brown. I’d highlight those who shaped the culture but were never celebrated. I’d show them us. We’d pose and shine until the word depicts America’s boundlessness. If you show them Popeye, show me next.