Dear Lourdes

June 23, 1985

Dear Lourdes the Younger, 

I’m sending you this love and care letter on your sixteenth birthday in the hope that it will save you from more pain and heartache. You don’t know it yet, but this summer will irrevocably change your life in ways you can’t imagine. You will fall in love, fight for love, and then, hide your love. In the next few decades, your definition of love will be tested, broken, shattered, and then, expanded. It will hurt. It will be brutal. And, despite the deeds and words of those who say they love you, you will survive. 

You might wonder who the hell I am and why I’m writing you. Well, I’m a fifty-one-year-old version of you, a version you can’t imagine because you don’t think you’ll live this long. I know, you’ve never imagined making it to thirty, but you do. I’ve chosen to write you—as opposed to leaving you a tape recording—because I know you like receiving letters and know the weight and power of words on paper. 

You, who have had words used against you like weapons by people you thought were friends, still believe words can be used for good. I’m writing you to help you avoid some of the tragic moments I went through, because I had no one to turn to, and because I didn’t think anyone cared. I’m trying to protect you in ways no friend or adult ever will. 

I know you don’t have a lot of time, since you’ve got one last Regents exam to take tomorrow, so I’ll end with a list of things you should look out for, remember, and hold on to. I know you’re skeptical, but just trust me. 

1. Know that your complexion—your rich, dark-chocolate skin—is a beautiful gift to be treasured. 

I remember how mercilessly Kyle H., Chris B., and Larry H. teased you for being “too dark” in the fifth grade, how no one did anything to stop them or defend you. Not your teacher, Miss Montalbano or your friends; they all left you. 

I remember how those little Black boys called you “Kunta Kinte,” “Blackie,” and “Darth Vader.” I want you to know they said those words to make you feel as badly about yourself as they felt about their own Blackness. They said those words because they knew you were smarter than them. One day, you will surpass them academically. They said those words because they didn’t yet know what beauty truly was. 

2. Know that you were not responsible for what your stepbrothers did to you. The shame you’ve carried for the last ten years is not yours to carry. 

It’s theirs; they are the ones to feel shame and guilt. You were and are innocent. You were and are clean. You need to release that shame, for if you don’t, you will spend the rest of your life living in and operating from that place of shame. The shame you’ve felt all these years will color your ideas about what you deserve in friendships, in romantic relationships, and at work. 

I know, you’ve never been able to envision anyone loving you, thinking you’re special, or good for anything but sex. But trust me, Sweet One, one day you will find someone who loves you just because you are You. It will be marvelous!

3. Know that your mother loves you. 

I know, she’s not like those White, middle-class moms in the Judy Blume, Nancy Drew, and Hardy Boys books she bought you, but she loves you in her own special way. Yes, I know, a little hug would be nice and some questions about you and how you’re feeling would be fantastic. A little positive attention would go a long way! 

But the reason why she works those long hours at the psychiatric hospital is not because she doesn’t love you or doesn’t want to be around you. It’s because she’s trying to provide for you. Her long hours make it possible for you to attend Trinity Lutheran School, get books from the Scholastic Weekly Reader every month, and go to summer camp. If she didn’t love you, she wouldn’t work so hard. I know, it’s difficult to believe, but trust me. One day, you’ll see just how much she loves you. Mom’s love is a quiet kind of love. Her love is a verb, not a noun—kinda like Grandpa Hines’. He shows his love through cooking and Mom shows it through work.  

4. Listen to your gut and you’ll never go wrong. 

You know those moments when you know something’s “off” or not right? That’s your intuition. There will be times in the near future and your distant future where your connection to your gut, your intuition will be tested. Each and every time, you need to trust your gut—not fear, not loneliness, and not guilt. Those things will lead you astray. Your gut will never steer you wrong, Baby Girl. Never!

5. Know that your anger is justified. If you aren’t careful, it will burn you up. 

I know you’re angry about several things: being sexually abused, being emotionally neglected, not having anyone really see you, and being treated differently because of the color of your skin. You are right to be angry about these things because they’re all rooted in injustice and unfairness. 

You need to find ways to use the anger. It’s like an emotional Bat Signal that something is wrong or simply not right in your life. Listen to your anger and hear what it’s telling you. Then, act on it, talk about it. Otherwise, your anger will burn you up and wear you down. You were created and born to do good things; don’t let Anger get in your way. 

6. Lastly, know that you have the right to celebrate your accomplishments. 

I know, you’re thinking, “I’m only sixteen! What have I done?” 

Girl, you graduated from elementary school, you got into one of the most selective schools on Staten Island (without even trying!), and most importantly, in a borough, a city, a country, a world that doesn’t love and treasure Black girls, you survived and thrive. 

You get good grades, you are smart, you are kind, and you are funny. You will do so much good in the world, but you’ll be tempted not to celebrate the moments when you win awards and competitions. Don’t give into the notion that humility means hiding your light under a bushel. 

Girl, snatch that light out from under the bushel and let it shine! Make no mistake, your light is for you, but it’s also for other people. It’s for other people who don’t know they have a light, for people who need someone to light their path for a little bit, and for those who don’t believe that those of us who are outsiders even have a light. Don’t be selfish by hiding your light. Like that song says, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine!

With much love, care, and hope for you, 

Lourdes the Older

-Lourdes Dolores Follins

Lourdes Dolores Follins is a Black queer woman who comes from a long line of intrepid women and working-class strivers. She’s been published in Rigorous, Watermelanin, Medium, and elsewhere. When Lourdes Dolores isn’t writing, she works as a psychotherapist with QTIPOC and kinky people in New York City. Check her out at www.lourdesdfollins.com