There are no happy endings for this one.
I so want there to be cute quip to leave y’all with this month, but I don’t. I don’t. What I have for you all to mediate on as this last Wednesday of this month, the one thing that I choose to leave you all with dearest ones, is this idea: asemicolon (;) .
I came across the semicolon tattoo due to a dear friend of mine and an older woman whom is an activist. When I asked her what it meant, she said it meant suicide prevention. The semicolon (;) in punctuation is used to join two clauses together which may seem as if they shouldn’t go together. However, with their joined thoughts, the story is able to continue. Ergo, the story is not over.
What I leave you all with is the continue, to indeed, continue.
From here, we go further to Project Semicolon. I urge you to see this site and participate in its mission, which reads as follows:
“Within the belief that suicide is generally preventable, the mission of Project Semicolon is to help reduce the incidents of suicide in the world through connected community and greater access to information and resources. We believe that suicide prevention is the collective responsibility of each and every person on the planet.”
(Taken from Project Semicolon, “Your story is not over.”
As a tattoo enthusiast, a writer, a mother, a domestic violence survivor and one who toyed with the idea of leaving the world, I have decided that I, too, will be a part of Project Semicolon. It will serve as a reminder that I have a job to do as a friend, a mother and an artist. The story in not over. Not for me, or anyone in my circle, especially for the black children whom I see inside and outside my sphere of influence.
Indeed, ink is one thing and actions are another, but things chance with an act! A single, focused act. I plan on getting this tattoo on my right hand, on the anatomical stuff box (the webbing between the index finger and thumb). I understand as mother my job is to love, and to guide. I understand my role as a writer is to report, record and explain–even the darker things which someone may call uncomfortable. I believe the body is excellent billboard and canvas, and every piece of ink should mean something.
Mine? This piece? Will always remind me of my journey–and to remind me of who I encounter, especially when they match my complexion, to take an extra moment to listen, and remind them too that their journey is not over.