Dear Big Orange Book,

What am I to do now? After you have painted a strikingly vivid picture of what life was like during slavery. After you have introduced me to fictional characters that now feel like family. After you have sang a lsong with a near perfect melody. Please do not misunderstand; I’m grateful for every respite I had to take when I felt cracks forming in my heart because of the pain Ailey, Coco, and Lydia carried for years. I understand it’s a privilege that I get to read and not experience what my ancestors did, but the pain I felt reading is not lessened by simply acknowledging this liberty. 

You provided me with many answers, but I can’t help but have even more questions like: 

How do you protect a black child? 

Do black women hide their pain that well or is it just that no one cares to look deeper? Is black women’s pain, which is like a scream, only heard by others as a faint whisper? I understand that the answer to these are complex. 

But two things are for certain: The things we keep bottled inside will reveal themselves outwardly in due time and the only way to get out of your feelings is to sort through them. I have to be honest, I wish Mama Garfield knew the whole truth, but maybe she finds out eventually. For over a month, I consumed you in pieces because all at once overwhelmed me. I’d like to think you are a modern classic that will captivate readers like me for years to come. You made me uncomfortable, you made me laugh, you made me mournful and I thank you for it all.