Trinity Jones, East Oakland native. Homegrown. Sharpened in iniquity, that’s sin for the unchurched. Political activist. Some would say certified “Boss Chick,” but I’d never wear that title, at least not regarding looks. I’m more about heart. Tough. Smart, and yet naïve. So eager and willing to trust even after experiencing continuous betrayal and heartache. I have a childhood friend named Egypt. She’s been with me through most steps I’ve taken through life. I hold her close to my heart like that of a sister. She pretends she loves me the same, and yet her eyes show that although she wants to, her heart does not have the capacity to hold space with me. I love her still. Egypt represents the hidden parts of me. She is woman. She was woman even at twelve, overly exposed and sexualized, bold, fearless, unapologetic. I know she’s dangerous. She would cut me and not think twice if the situation required it. I respect her still.
She wears her hair wild and free like her soul. She says what she thinks, no regard for feelings. Honesty is her crown. She did not grow up in church and she has little time to listen to scripture. However, she will allow me to pray for her, or occasionally share my testimony. She has her boundaries, allowing me to get to a certain level, and then demands I back up. I respect that. Egypt and all of her beauty. Eventually we would have to break ties. Although it was never spoken, we both knew it. Still, we appreciated each other for what we were. She was with me when I lost Kenya. I remember she was holding a strawberry soda. The screaming must have startled her, because I remember she dropped the can, spilling it onto the white carpet. I’ve scrubbed that stain to no avail over the years and it still hasn’t come up. I covered it up with a rug, but I still know it’s there … we both do.