Young Black Girl

Shelia King, AA 

Mental Health & Recovery ​Associate

I remember when I first saw your big eyes. I wanted everything for you that I never had. A mother who adores you, a little girl. You could not do anything wrong. Someone once looked at you at the tender young age of 3 and said the universe gave you a handful. I wanted to be the mother that always wanted; to encourage you to be your best, and do better than I. The dreams I had for you were sitting in motion, you had what I wanted in my dreams. ​

​But sometimes life takes a different turn. What seemed normal was no longer the same. You grew up and the world got larger, no more safety in the cocoon from life. The outside influence became bigger than my dreams for you. Looking outside the window became more interesting than the world inside. I knew I had to let you go.
 
The world became your playground even though I knew what was waiting for you. Your curiosity became your friend and my enemy. I fought hard trying to knock down any harm that could come from your curiosity, but it was like boxing Muhammad Ali. I know the choices you make are your own, but it affects your loved ones who only want the best for you.
 
Many nights I cried hoping the universe heard this Mother’s cry. I prayed to hear the voice of my ancestor and that they would send me a sign saying, “Yes child, I hear your pain”. Yet I sank deep into my own depression because I had no answers for you. I experienced the pain of watching you suffer with yours.
 
I know baby you carry the pain of other people's decisions. I dream about wrapping you in my arms and showing you how powerful you can be and how you can turn your pain into triumph. Black women carry the weight of the world when this weight does not belong to us.
 
I am here to help you if only you will let me in. I know it is hard because your mental illness says you won't believe me or trust me with your most important treasure: your mind, feelings, and wants. Thus, you carry the pain of life on your face. Baby girl you can heal. No one is stronger than the black women who had to find courage, hope, so that they could persevere and heal.
 
I wish I could make your pain go away. I know we all must play the hand we were dealt. I just want to wrap my arm around you and show you how powerful you can be. I know the pain you carry is just too much for you, so you run. And you keep running; never stopping to ask yourself, “What am I running from?” But you can't stop because it hurts. You are too afraid to open your eyes and face life. I KNOW BECAUSE YOU ARE ME. AND I’M YOU.               
 

Shelia King, AA

​Sheila King holds an Associate of Art in Liberal Studies. She has served women experiencing homelessness in Washington, DC for years. She has experience in crisis de-escalation, conflict resolution, and group facilitation. She is passionate about mental health and substance use issues. As a Black woman with mental health concerns, she wants to support all black women on their mental health journey. IG: @Mother_of_my_girls