The end of April resulted in many open, wholehearted conversations for me.
They ached, they loved, they fed, they broke me open.
One exchange in particular reminded me of when I was in a doctoral program. I was acting like the first generation, Afro-Latina, scientist that I thought I should be. I did all that I could to be the first in my family to do so many things. That was the problem: I was acting... I was performing... I wasn't living.