When you finally sit, assume the position, and start doing it, writing the life can sometimes seem actually more challenging than living the life. I can argue either point of view in equal measure, depending on the demands of the day. But whichever sentiment is true, what I know is that neither the living nor writing occurs in its best form without the love, wisdom, and camaraderie of the people who’ve chosen to stand beside us.
In my own life, particular acknowledgment must be made to the women who, in varying ways, taught me invaluable lessons about being a mother: first, my own mom, Dolores Bullard, and my sister, Anne Coleman. But also the women closest to me: Autumn Amberbridge, Kimberly Elise, Qamara Clark, Susan Taylor, Myrian Tooma, Robin Templeton, dream hampton, Monifa Bandele and her mom, Marie Murray.
There are many men who’ve shared their hearts with my daughter and me as well. Two who’ve especially done so will always have my love, Nisa’s love, and unending appreciation: George Caros and Stanley Crouch.
Nora (Stewart) Alexis has helped me care for my daughter so fully for so long and with so much love, I was able not only to write but to grow these last hard years. Thank you.
Audrey Edwards and Robin Stone read early versions of what finally became this book. I am deeply grateful for their editing, counsel, friendship, and lessons in parenting.
Former colleagues at Essence magazine and current ones at the Drug Policy Alliance have continually circled my daughter with love the countless times I have needed to file a story or a report with her at my side. We cannot thank you enough.
I don’t know an author who can navigate any part of the journey without a fine editor. I am lucky enough to be, eleven years on, still working with the best among us, Gillian Blake. For both the push and the patience, I am forever grateful.
Finally, and for more than I will ever, ever be able to list, my great, great gratitude—and still love after all these years—is reserved for Zayd Rashid, who I hope will one day walk a Brooklyn neighborhood, hand in hand, with our daughter.
For him, for Nisa, for the now millions of children and parents who are divided by bars and barbed wire, your day—unrestricted and unrestrained—will come.