Like a lot of Black women, I have always had to invent the power my freedom requires.

A democratic state is not proven by the welfare of the strong but by the welfare of the weak.

We do not deride the fears of prospering white America. A nation of violence and private property has every reason to dread the violated and the deprived.

Reproductive choice is not some trendy item to toss or keep around the house. If you cannot get an education or a job, if you cannot choose what will or will not happen with your own body, then what freedom do you have?

What tyranny could exceed a tyranny that dictates to the human heart?

Lately... Americans have begun to understand that trouble does not start somewhere on the other side of town. It seems to originate inside the absolute middle of the homemade cherry pie. In our history, the state has failed to respond to the weak. You could be white, male, Presbyterian and heterosexual besides, but if you get fired or if you get sick tomorrow, you might as well be Black, for all the state will want to hear from you.

The first function of poetry is to tell the truth, to learn how to do that, to find out what you really feel and what you really think