by Nia Reynold

After 1460 days of a society removing their Thalia to reveal the ugly Melpomene that had long been festering underneath it, a ray of light seems to have broken through with the delivery of the inaugural poem “The Hill We Climb”. This piece of literary iridescence was written and performed by the 22-year-old Amanda Gorman, who is now the youngest inaugural poet in U.S. history. As a young black woman myself, I am in awe to see someone who is so close to my age make living, breathing history. Become living breathing history. Exist as living, breathing history. I can imagine that in the very moment that she began to address the 46th President of the United States, every little black girl was entranced by their tv screen as they saw themselves utter art articulated from turmoil to those who are the byproduct of turmoil and those who incited it, to begin with. Those little girls saw their skin glow on screen in the same way Gorman’s poem did, they heard words that had circulated their minds but didn’t know how to express, said to a congregation of faces they never would’ve thought they would be allowed to see. They felt their souls seen and vulnerable yet soaring in a phoenix-like disposition without the fear of its kindling being drowned. Those little black girls saw themselves for what they truly are, for what we truly are – light but purified. 

Amanda Gorman, thank you for showing us a glimpse of what the top of the hill looks like.