This week: We found new jobs, new ways to voice our anger against the attacks in London, against our President’s rampant kerfuffles, and against the inanities of daily life. We worked our day jobs, mothered young souls, met new humans, traveled to new places, and amidst all this and in the middle of an ab workout, the following started playing through my speakers again. I remembered how the Internet broke the day Bey announced she was pregnant. Why? Because we needed it, that link between sense and catharsis:
“The nail technician pushes my cuticles back, turns my hand over, stretches the skin on my palm and says, “I see your daughters and their daughters.” That night in a dream, the first girl emerges from a slit in my stomach. The scar heals into a smile. The man I love pulls the stitches out with his fingernails. We leave black sutures curling on the side of the bath.
I wake as the second girl crawls headfirst up my throat, a flower blossoming out of the hole in my face.”
– Beyoncé, Lemonade: Hope