I consider Angela Davis to be one of my greatest inspirations. Learning about her felt like a breath of fresh air. In grade 12, I wore my afro just like hers. In my first year of university, I taped multiple pictures of her to my walls; the most prominent was her wanted poster. When I learned that she is a lesbian during my own coming out journey, it meant the world to me. She made me feel seen, heard and understood. She showed me that other Black lesbians exist — that we have a place in this world and a role in its history.
At the time of her passing in 2025, Assata Shakur had been living in Cuba as a political refugee for over 40 years after escaping from imprisonment in the US. As I mourned her, I reminded myself of how she escaped a system that sought to crush her. Though the news of her passing hurt, something she once said gave me comfort: “We have nothing to lose but our chains.” She gave up so much in the name of liberation. She reminded me that we honour the legacies of those we’ve lost by continuing to stand up for what we know is right.
I first heard the name Kimberlé Crenshaw in my first semester at university — it was in an assigned reading where I learned she had coined the term “intersectionality.” Her work helped me to understand that my queerness and my Blackness did not exist independently of one another. I began to recognize that all these different aspects of identity — my race, my gender, my sexuality — are not mutually exclusive; rather, they mesh together in a way that makes me uniquely who I am.
In a third-year literature-focused women and gender studies course centred on themes of embodiment, I read a piece by Audre Lorde. I was captivated by her language and resonated deeply with her content. I was going through a difficult time, experiencing burnout and struggling with my mental health. Lorde’s words brought me so much comfort in a time when I needed it the most. She taught me to be patient with myself, and reminded me that I am worthy of love. She taught me that in a world that seeks to make me feel hopeless and exhausted, rest is a radical act in and of itself.
No comments to display.