Dy'Air McCormick

The woman before you swallowed her voice so you could clear your throat.

They say you changed. Like it was an accusation. like survival was a betrayal of softness.  But listen you didn’t lose yourself. you adapted.  You became quieter when loud wasn’t safe. You became sharper when gentle kept getting cut. You became smaller when taking up space cost too much. That wasn't a weakness. That was intelligence. That was instinct. That was a woman calculating risk in real time. You did not disappear You reorganized.  You tucked pieces of yourself away the way people hide...

Anger isn’t destruction. Its redirection. It’s the fire that burns down what’s no longer working, so you can rebuild something real.