My Great Grandmother was black like God. Black. Like the ocean on a new moon. Black like a seed starter That grows miracles Black, like womb and the universe Black, like my room in prayer In my last conversation with her, I told her she was beautiful And that I wished I looked more like her I wish that I could look more like her So my face could tell her story And my heart could feel her pain How ironic, it seems now, that her nickname was: Chola. In Panama, we call people Cholos who have straight hair or indigenous features. All of that melanin. And praise went to her hair. Maybe that's unfair. I don't know why she got that name. But I would have called her Miracles. How fitting, it seems now that her birth name was Altagracia meaning "Highest Grace." My father calls me Negra Chola. And I feel tremendous pride. He knows what I have inside me. I carry the magic but not the burden. I know some of you won't understand what I mean by that. But some of you will... -Namibia Tagrit Donadio Mejia Pensando mucho en mis raices. Gracias por tu trabajo bello @etniaycolor @afrolatinofestivalnyc #orgullosamenteafrodesendiente ~ proudly Afro descendant (at Panama City, Panama)