Quotes from Rebecca Walker

when it comes down to it, that's what life is all about: showing up for the people you love, again and again, until you can't show up anymore.

Sex can look like love if you don't know what love looks like.

It seems to me, that this, too, is how memory works. What we remember of what was done to us shapes our view, molds us, sets our stance. But what we remember is past, it no longer exists, and yet we hold on to it, live by it, surrender so much control to it. What do we become when we put down the scripts written by history and memory, when each person before us can be seen free of the cultural or personal narrative we've inherited or devised? When we, ourselves, can taste that freedom.

One may be nice on the outside but on the inside isnt pretty

For many of us it seems that to be a feminist in the way that we have seen or understood feminism is to conform to an identity and way of living that doesn't allow for individuality, complexity, or less than perfect personal histories. We fear that the identity will dictate and regulate our lives, instantaneously pitting us against someone, forcing us to choose inflexible and unchanging sides, female against male, black against white, oppressed against oppressor, good against bad.

What the heart desires is medicine to itself. Does that make sense?

You are my first love." And then, "You will be my only love.

Blood strikes back.

I don't trust the everyday: it is a mask, a sham. It gives the illusion of permanence, of an unshatterable calm, a placid surface; and yet underneath the pot is slowly coming to a boil.

when it comes down to it, that's what life is all about: showing up for the people you love, again and again, until you can't show up anymore.

What the heart desires is medicine to itself.

Take this one in my belly. He (or she) is determined to be here. I can feel the force of his being. It's as if he has something to do here and just wants to arrive and grow up so he can get to it.

I had too much power, I thought. I might consume him out of my own curiosity simply because I could. I could stay or go. He could not. He had too much power, I thought. He could reject me. He could break me in two.

This often has a lot to do with racism and sexism, and the stories we are "allowed" to tell as people of colour.