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Oprah’s Leadership Academy for Girls. I watched her special and cried the entire time. No matter what you think about whether or not Oprah should have opened a school in the United States, I don’t know how you could not have been moved by this story. I watched those girls and like Oprah, I saw pieces of myself. Growing up without…knowing you were meant for more…yearning for education. I understand why she encouraged parents to watch the special with their kids.

What touched me most? What made me cry the longest? The hardest? The little girl who, after much hesitation, asked Oprah this question: “As you look at me now, do you think I’m good enough?” That really tore at my heart and all I could do was cry and pray.

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How many times in my life have I asked that question? Without putting it into those words, I have asked that same question. And I cried harder because I realize that, to some degree in certain aspects of my life, I am still asking that question. It is a question that has lived buried deep inside of me for years and so I know that quick, pat answers will not do.

I cry because I want to KNOW the answer for myself. I don’t want to stand before anyone else and ask the question. I want to KNOW without a shadow of a doubt – not in a cocky or arrogant way but in a quiet, assured way. I cry because I find that question laced into so much of my poetry…read between the lines. I cry because I find that question tucked into the scenes in fiction works-in-progress. I cry because I find it baked into his favorite dish. I cry because I find that question running through my resume, like an invisible appendix or some new IRS schedule.

I cry because I know that you – whoever or whatever “YOU” may be: a job, a man, a child, a career, etc. – you cannot answer that question for me. It is a question that only I can answer.

And I cry because I hate asking it. And I cry because I know what the answer is but I can’t crack the equation.

I cry because this question still seems to exists for me. As far as I think I’ve come from skinny, knock-eyed girl with a head full of plaits too short for ribbons. This question still exists for me.

And as I wipe away my tears, no longer sure for whom I’m crying – the little girl in South Africa or the little girl inside me – I take solace in knowing that, though the world tends to focus on the answer to the question, any question, my spirit knows that the true test lies in asking the question in the first place. Any answer that comes beyond that? Purely extra credit.

Quotable

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power, They speak more eloquently than 10,000 tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief…and unspeakable love.” ~ Washington Irving

“The only cure for a true sense of unworthiness is BELIEF.” ~ Iyanla Vanzant