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Good Unicorns, Bad Unicorns, and Beautiful Black Parents

Trigger Warning: This post contains discussion of sexual trauma, childhood trauma, and mental illness

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When I was a little girl, unicorns made me sad. They only appeared before pale skinned virgins who were slender of body and “pure” of heart. By the time I was 6, I was already a mentally broken survivor of sexual trauma and no longer a “virgin” which meant that unicorns forever more would reject me as unworthy of love and magick. My unceasing flashbacks meant that my thoughts weren’t pure which seemed to cement my status as an unworthy child.

When I finally told my mom and dad that why I thought that unicorns and magic hated little black girls who had been hurt like me they went out and bought me a giant stuffed unicorn that they named “Misty”. They told me that there are good unicorns and bad unicorns. Good unicorns never made women and little girls feel bad for being hurt and broken. Good unicorns like Misty loved little black girls as much as everyone else and carried the best magick in every kingdom. Good unicorns didn’t give a toss about virginity. I felt loved and surrounded by magick thanks to my wonderful parents and Misty the unicorn.

This and every Black History Month, I honor all of the black loving parents and guardians who throughout time have worked their fingers to the bone putting magic in the hearts and souls of their children in the face of insurmountable odds.

My parents and ancestors always reminded me that being sexually abused didn’t make me any less of a beautiful African princess and I will be forever grateful for this gift of love. Ase O’

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