See Me, Hear Me, Know Me

See Me, Hear Me, Know Me

Makena wakes up in her own bed and catches her reflection in the dresser mirror. The previous day rushes back, making her head spin. She replays the people who have never really seen her: a stranger across the street who assumed the worst, a teacher who never bothered to learn her name, and a woman in the park who doubted she was helping. Each of them invented their own version of Makena, an invisible girl who causes trouble, because that is what they expect from a Black girl. None of it is true.

All Makena can picture is the police staring at her and Amari on their own front porch, and she wonders if she’ll ever cross it again without reliving those awful minutes. She remembers the breathing exercise Mom always teaches her. In. Out. Slowly count to four. She closes her eyes to focus on her breath instead.

Makena opens her eyes. She has to figure out a way to get all the judgy people to understand. To feel. She reaches for her journal and starts drawing. But instead of pictures, words come out.

That’s it! Makena scrambles to her dresser and finds a plain black t-shirt. She grabs her metallic fabric paints and picks out the bright pink. She carefully copies the last three lines to the t-shirt.

When the paint dries, Makena stares at the words. She suddenly knows it’s not enough for her clothes to make a statement. She puts the shirt on, and starts recording.

Makena introduces herself. She tells the camera that something happened, and she’s not okay. Her voice shakes, but she keeps talking. She explains about forgetting their house keys, and the stranger across the street calling the police. She explains about the orders to freeze, and how they didn’t ask any questions first. She’s thirteen, and her sister is eleven. This is their home. They just assumed the two Black women were trying to break in. And that hurts. Makena is a person. See her for who she is. Hear what she says. Get to know her before making assumptions about her. Judge her by her words and actions, not her face.

Makena wipes away a tear and stops recording. She’s not sure about posting it, but she feels glad to have gotten her feelings out.

Nervous, Makena carries the video downstairs and asks Mom and Dad to watch. They are shaken and proud, and Amari calls it brave. Once Makena explains why it matters that people finally understand, Mom and Dad agree to let her post it. Makena types “See Me, Hear Me, Know Me,” and hits Share.