How God Kept the Black Woman

I haven’t spoken a word today, but a day for me is a decade for you.

I’ve been listening and feeling. I can’t put a finger on it; a voice spits sentences of passion and wisdom that enchants me. So for this day, I’ve not spoken.

I am to assume that this voice is a He, one almost as old as I. I have yet to be blessed with the knowledge of who He is; therefore, I will not bestow him with the improper nomenclature.

I’ve wandered for centuries, building an immunity to the rebellion I was born with. He unlocked my submissiveness; the girth of His power claims my soul and mind every day. We began this journey centuries ago, when the Universities were built and the Enlightenment was upon the Ottoman Empire. In secret, we would read and write, learning as one. My mind was His canvass, and He painted it with the colors of change.

His voice rang through my head, “Listen to me. Now is the time for you to be one of the intellects and carry yourself as a great philosopher. Challenge yourself, and I will teach you as I was taught by the Heavens.”

As time passed, He assisted in the expansion of my mind; I was becoming like no other being thus far. The absorption of written and verbal education was the simple part, then came the spirit realm. I had to learn to control every thought, every emotion. That took a few years.

Then I had to learn to release and contract every muscle; if I was feeling anxious, I could not tense. I could not cry. I had to understand the boundaries of myself and break them. Finally, I learned to combine my physical, spiritual and intellectual selves: I could control body on a chemical level. I knew which parts of me were dying, and I knew how to regenerate them. I was becoming immortal.

Zuri McWhorter

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