If you ask Google what a roux is, it will say it is a mixture of fat (usually butter) and flour that is used for making sauces.
Black women are the roux.
Our presence is a roux.
Our magic is our lore and myth.
We are an elemental part of what makes this nation what it is. From the first enslaved woman whom was captured from West Africa, and her mother that could do nothing but watch it happen. And to her descendants who taught her children the ways of white folks that they may live, to the foremother who fed her children with boiled leaves and meal with a egg she pocketed. And we and her grandchildren who fought to be free, read and vote…black women make history every time our eyes open.
From abolition to suffrage, to education to civil rights to integration to Black Lives Matter, there is a black woman, a black girl, a black woman was a girl, that knew the story and saw. There was a black woman whom organized, lead or survived.
We are the roux.
We are those that are alive and remain where and when the world tried to kill us all.
As long as I can trace my roots back to the flow of women before me, I know how deep my roots are and how far back they stretch. I know I have been Queen, slave, maid, doctor, spy, hero, villain(?), advocate, wife, widow and teacher.
As my life and present history stretch before me, I understand as I work and push accomplish, I add to this life and the life of my children. I will become the roux. I am the roux.