Tia Williams Quotes

Women are expected to absorb traumas both subtle and loud and move on. Shoulder the weight of the world. But when the world fucks with us, the worst thing we can do is bury it. Embracing it makes us strong enough to fuck the world right back.

Girls are given the weight of the world, but nowhere to put it down. The power and magic born in that struggle? It’s so terrifying to men that we invented reasons to burn y’all at the stake, just to keep our dicks hard.

And maybe that was what real, adult love was. Being fearless enough to hold each other close no matter how catastrophic the world became. Loving each other with enough ferocity to quell the fears of the past. Just fucking being there.

Girls are given the weight of the world, but nowhere to put it down.

I know what I was like.” “You don’t.” Shane went dead serious. “You burst into my solitude, demanding to be seen. You were overwhelming. Just wild and weird and brilliant, and I never had a choice. I liked everything about you. Even the scary parts. I wanted to drown in your fucking bathwater.

I idealize you in fiction because I idealized you in real life,” he continued.

Shane cupped her face in his hands. “It never ends, does it? Loving you never ends. Whether you’re Genevieve or Eva. Whether I lose you for years or wake up to your face every morning. I love you. You’re my home. And I want you forever.

Women didn’t get to be bad boys.

Isn’t it obvious?” “Apparently not.” “I’m not just writing about you,” said Shane. “I’m writing to you.

One thing,” she whispered, her lips by his jaw. She didn’t want anyone to overhear. “Before I forget.” “What’s that?” “Stop writing about me.” Only Eva could’ve noticed the change in his expression. She saw the flinch. The slow, satisfied curl of his lip. His bronzy-amber eyes flashing. It was like he’d been waiting years to hear those words. Like the girl whose pigtails he’d been yanking during recess all year had finally shoved him back. He looked gratified. In a voice both raspy and low, and so, so familiar, Shane said, “You first.

Have you ever been in a Walmart?” asked Eva. “Physically, yes. Spiritually, no.

Religion. Hmm. I guess it's like fire. In good hands, fire can be used to do positive things, like keep you warm. Make s'mores. In bad hands, it can burn a witch at the stake. Lynch a Black body.

I’m alone. When I’m comatose from writing and mothering, when I’m hurting too badly to cook, talk, or smile, I curl up with ‘alone’ like a security blanket. Alone doesn’t care that I don’t shave my legs in the winter. Alone never gets disappointed by me.” Eva sighed. “It’s the best relationship I’ve ever been in.

The world was too loud for little-boy Shane. What he didn’t know was that he was training himself to be a deeply empathetic writer—understanding nuanced emotion, spying humanity in unexpected places, seeing past the obvious. He was taking notes for his future self, who would write it all down.

No matter how perilous the journey, it’s never over for true soul mates.

This new Eva, the free Eva, was tired of being rattled by life. How long had she lived being too terrified to show her real self? There was power in showing the messiness of her life and what it took to hold it together.

Adult social stuff can’t be harder than seventh grade. It’s not hard to make friends. Just be an active listener. If you listen hard enough, you can tell what a person needs from you. And if you give them what they need, you’ve got a friend for life.

There’s an alternate universe where I never left

I stayed alive for you, and you. But you killed me anyway.

How do you finish a love story that you…you never wanted to end?

Teen girls rearrange the fucking world.

If you have the opportunity to make a moment meaningful, why not take it?

Just say it,” Eva said with a smile. “I’ve never said it. To anyone.” “It won’t hurt, I promise.” Shane grinned, a heart-stopping thing. Then laid his face on her breasts, closing his eyes. “Ready?” he asked. “Ready.” “I love you,” said Shane. “Dramatically, violently, and forever.” She kissed the top of his head, smiling brighter than the sun. “I’ve always loved you,” he whispered. “What a coincidence,” she whispered back. “I’ve always loved you, too.

Look at history,” Eva continued, rubbing a temple. “Roxanne Shanté out-rapping grown men at fourteen. Serena winning the US Open at seventeen. Mary Shelley writing Frankenstein at eighteen. Josephine Baker conquering Paris at nineteen. Zelda Fitzgerald’s high school diary was so fire that her future husband stole entire passages to write The Great Gatsby. The eighteenth-century poet Phillis Wheatley published her first piece at fourteen, while enslaved. Joan of Arc. Greta Thunberg. Teen girls rearrange the fucking world.

Running away wasn’t empowering. An empowered woman would’ve indulged.

Destigmatizing male vulnerability is the first step toward rebuilding the absolute ruin that straight men have left the world in.

Shane was her lighthouse. If he went dark, she’d be lost, treading black water forever.

To me, love is like listening to an album. Some people skip to their favorite songs and ignore the rest. Other people listen to the entire album over and over until it's familiar and cherished and they know every note by heart. That's how Dr. Bennett and I loved each other. He was music I could listen to forever.

A tree grows its branches out until it touches the tips of the next closest tree. And they're linked forever. Because if they're really close, their roots grow together. They're so intertwined underneath that no matter what happens above ground, they stay connected.

I thought you were a problem that needed solving. But you don't need solving. You need understanding.

Adulthood is a lie, Audre. We're all just tall toddlers.

You push away stuff away that isn't safe and obvious, Mom, but love isn't safe and obvious. Love is risky. Take the risk, woman.

And here’s what’s really good,” continued Belinda. “The publishing industry has a hard time processing Black characters unless we’re suffering.

she still loved him, and she could feel herself dying from it, like a disease.

Acting sober is an art,” he explained. “The trick is to say very little and be very still.

And know this: the villain depends on who's telling the story.

Like when Spotify plays a song you haven't heard since childhood, and it reminds you who you are. Like "Oh yeah, I'm a person who knows all the words to Will Smith's 'Wild Wild West.

...but he can't stop himself from loving her. Maybe it's 'cause he knows that in the end, she'll survive him. ... By virtue of being a woman, she's stronger. Girls are given the weight of the world, but nowhere to put it down. The power and magic born in that struggle? It's so terrifying to men that we invented reasons to burn y'all at the stake, just to keep our dicks hard.

I’ve always loved you,” he whispered. “What a coincidence,” she whispered back. “I’ve always loved you, too.

Now, I never got married. No, no, no, I ain’t one of those funny ladies. I just won’t fold myself up tiny so as not to put off no man.

They both giggled, until they’d forgotten what was funny. Eventually, they lapsed into comfortable silence, enjoying the sun.

Such a luxury, she thought, having someone who fills in your gaps when you’re depleted.

But identity changes all the time, I've found. There's a few more 'yous' you haven't met yet.

Be nice to her,” she said, low and fast. “My mom keeps a lot of stuff inside, but her thoughts are really loud. I know she’s been scared and lonely. She has a disability, but you probably know that. It’s a barometric-pressure thing. When it rains or snows or gets really hot or really cold too fast, she hurts. But alcohol, stress, loud noises, and weird smells do it, too. You have to learn her triggers. And please, just be patient with her. Sometimes she has to lie down for a long time. You might feel bored or lonely or even rejected, but she can’t help being sick.” Audre rested her hand on Shane’s shoulder. “Mom feels guilty about who she is. Make her feel happy about herself.

...you burst into my solitude demanding to be seen. You were overwhelming. Just wild and weird and brilliant, and I never had a choice. I liked everything about you. Even the scary parts. I wanted to drown in your fucking bathwater.

Given that those sinning, raping plantation owners had both white babies and Black babies, everyone was six degrees from being one or the other. Which was what scared southern white people the most.

It never ends, does it? Loving you never ends. Whether you’re Genevieve or Eva. Whether I lose you for years or wake up to your face every morning. I love you. You’re my home. And I want you forever.

IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2019, THIRTY-TWO-YEAR-OLD EVA MERCY NEARLY choked to death on a piece of gum. She’d been attempting to masturbate when the gum lodged in her throat, cutting off her air supply.

I don't want these clinical, awkward setups. I don't feel like doing this twenty more times. I can't imagine meeting my soulmate through an interview process. I want to know without words. I want fall so violently that I risk breaking into a million pieces. I want to love so desperately it's indecent. I want it to be wild and fated and forever. A no choice connection.

I want to know without words. I want to fall so violently that I risk breaking into a million pieces. I want to love so desperately it’s indecent. I want it to be wild and fated and forever. A no-choice connection.

Go." "Can't." Eva shook her head. "It'd require breaking myself open." "Why don't you want to?" "It's a mess in there," she said hollowly. He wondered when the last time she'd fallen apart in front of someone was. "But that's the good stuff," he insisted. "It's you.

She did think of him sometimes. Lying alone in a hospital bed at 2:00 a.m., or during bouts of writer's block. He'd appear on the fringes of her thoughts—no face, just a feeling. His warm, minty-vanilla scent. The rough softness of his skin, like velvet caressed against the grain.

Long ago, she'd learned that life could be bitterly disappointing if allowed. There were blows and stumbles, but your job was to stay interested in the world.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go home and feed my two kittens, Growth and Metamorphosis.

love you. You’re my home. And I want you forever.

Always be yourself. Unless you can be me. Then always be me.’ And here’s another one…

MAKE AMERICA NEW YORK.

Because I barely survived Shane Hall. I barely survived myself. It was a dark time. My home life was traumatic. I was a chaotic, angry kid. Why reminisce?

Miles Davis said there are two categories of thinking: the truth and white bullshit. The national anthem is white bullshit.

No one was perfect! And maybe that was what real, adult love was. Being fearless enough to hold each other close no matter how catastrophic the world became. Loving each other with enough ferocity to quell the fears of the past. Just fucking being there.

I cut myself. He didn’t do it. And I’d been taking drugs—your drugs, or getting them from your boyfriends—my whole life. I wasn’t your innocent little baby.

I wanna be everything,” he said, his mouth against her ear. “Wanna be the reason you light up. I wanna make you laugh, make you moan, make you safe.

You know you’re the turtle, right? The one who comes and goes as he pleases while I wait for you?

Know why I have nice skin? No man stressing me out

He'd forgotten, because he had no experience with being needed.

When we were together, I felt like someone else had stolen all your smiles before me.

Lizette would never get it. Eva needed her for everything. She'd just never had her.

Because even bigger than her sadness was her determination.

Just be kind to yourself.

Every time one of her terribly dysfunctional relationships imploded, she was confused and stunned. And then with fresh hope, she’d fling herself at another jackass.

Maybe that's what real adult love was. Being fearless enough to hold each other close no matter how catastrophic the world became.

Listen, caring about things don't maek you soft. IT makes you alive.

He’s the human equivalent of a spam email,

Prison is the school of the unlearned lesson.

If you listen hard enough, you can tell what a person needs from you. And if you give them what they need, you've got a friend for life.

No matter how perilous the journey, it’s never over for true soul mates. Who doesn’t want a connection that burns forever, despite distance, time, and curses?

I like being single,” Eva continued quietly. “I don’t want anyone to have to really see me.

Listen. Caring about things doesn't make you soft. It makes you alive.

Listen, caring about things don’t make you soft. It makes you alive.

The burden isn’t on me to explain it, Rich. The burden’s on y’all to fix it. Good luck.

I know too much,” he said, his words weighted with old pain. The kind that makes a home on the fringes of your thoughts forever.

When it’s real, you don’t fall in love with any awareness. You don’t get a say. You get hit fucking hard and then process it later. You know?

Well the world may be in shambles around us, said Ricki, ever optimistic, but we're still creating through it. We'll always have art, love, stories, adventures, beauty....

And Breeze knew that what you haven’t reckoned with, you’re doomed to repeat. America was a ghost story with no end.

Transcendent and Ruinous and Soulmate-Perfect

Please take no offense, but our music was revolutionary before whites liked it, and it will be after.

I wanna be where all your paths end.” He nipped her earlobe. “I wanna do everything you do to me.” He pulsed his finger then, and she came with a shuddery cry. “You’re hired,” she breathed.

People search in vain forever to find what we've got. I don't know shit about anything, Jenna, and I might be inexperienced, but I know you'll never love anyone like you love me.' 'I won't she,' she whispered. 'And yet you can leave me so easily for a baby you don't have and a husband you've never met. I'm here, I'm real, and I just lost to a goddamn fantasy. I must've never really had you at all.

To me, love is like listening to an album. Some people skip to their favorite songs and ignore the rest. Other people listen to the entire album over and over, until it's familiar and cherished and they know every note by heart. That's how Dr. Bennet and I loved each other. He was music I could listen to forever.

But inexplicable things happened to him, and Shane accepted life's oddities. He didn't know if this made him an adventurer or an idiot, but one thing was true—nothing interesting ever came from a clear path of rationality.

Yeah, but like, I just wanna ask her if she wants to go with me to Cold Stone or whatever. Get some ice cream,” grumbled Ty. “You’re doing too much.” “See, you don’t even need my help! You got a plan,” said Shane encouragingly. “Just ask her out tomorrow. And be confident with it. If you believe you’re that dude, she will, too.” “Maybe I should ask her if she’s lactose intolerant first.” “Under no circumstances should you do that.” “Nah, you right.

didn’t leave you,” he said finally. “What?” “Your mom never said anything?” “No,” she said, her voice cracking, pleading. “What happened?” “I didn’t leave you.” Confusion flooded her face. “I would never have left you. It was…your mom. She sent me away.

How do you think she got there?” Shane’s voice was an unsteady mix of regret and pain. “I found her number in your phone, and I called her. When she got to the house, she called the paramedics. And the police. And sent me to prison.” The blood drained from Eva’s face. “No.” “Ask her,” he said gently. “Ask her.

My mom told me. And you were young and scared and trying to be tough—and I promised you that you’d never go back. I promised. And she sent you back.” She gulped dryly. “Shane, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything I said yesterday. I’m sorry for blaming you for all these years. For hating you. I hated you so much.

Eva turned to face him. “I’m so sorry.” “No, I’m sorry. That’s what I came to New York to say. I’m sorry I broke my promise. And I’m sorry I didn’t find you the second I was released. But by then, you’d published your first book. You were a success, and I didn’t want to ruin it. Back then, I was convinced that I ruined

It’s raising you up for prison. Your every move is criminalized, by design. In most schools, kids don’t get expelled for saying ‘fuck’ or get tased for tardiness or incarcerated for missing one detention. In most schools, eighth-grade boys aren’t terrorized this way. They’re allowed to be kids, nothing on their minds but pussy and Roblox.” Ty’s eyes focused on his notebook. He was painfully aware that Shane was referring to him. He’d been sent to juvie for missing a detention.

These partygoers hadn’t been the cool kids growing up. They’d spent their adolescence buried in art books, scrawling poems into steno pads during recess, living full stories in their heads. Distracted by their artistic micro-obsessions, many forgot to learn how to engage with the world. They were too busy studying life, storing up their notes to use later in a novel, a song, a script, a painting. They were observers, not joiners.

For half my life, I've hidden behind these characters. I've hidden in general. I've spent so much time being scared. Scared of digging too deep into who I really am, for fear of what I might find. What ghosts I might confront, secrets I might uncover. Better to bury it all. I thought I couldn't be a successful person if I had demons. But what fully realized person doesn't? No one expects men to be flaw-free. Women are expected to absorb traumas both subtle and loud and move on. Shoulder the weight of the world. But when the world fucks with us, the worst thing we can do is bury it. Embracing it makes us strong enough to fuck the world right back.

There isn’t just one dangerous person here. There’s two. We’re the same.” Too infuriated to speak—seething, knowing that this was uncomfortably accurate—Eva turned her back to Shane and fumbled with the lock again. When she spun back around to face him, trembling, she unloaded all the bottled-up fury she’d been holding in for years. “WHERE DID YOU GO?” Stunned, he shook his head. “What?” “Where did you go?” She stepped toward him, raging, keys digging into her palm. “Okay, we’re both bad. But you disappeared

When I feel lonely, I scroll through Tinder and remind myself what I’m missing. Which is dudes with coconut-oiled beards all posing next to the same graffitied wall in Dumbo with profiles written entirely in emojis. And I remember that I’m not lonely. I’m alone. When I’m comatose from writing and mothering, when I’m hurting too badly to cook, talk, or smile, I curl up with ‘alone’ like a security blanket. Alone doesn’t care that I don’t shave my legs in the winter. Alone never gets disappointed by me.” Eva sighed. “It’s the best relationship I’ve ever been in.” “Are you speaking metaphorically,” asked Cece, “or are you dating a man named Alone?” “You can’t be serious.” “My doorman is a SoundCloud rapper named Sincere. One never knows.” “I like being single,” Eva continued quietly. “I don’t want anyone to have to really see me.” They sat in silence, Eva idly snapping the rubber band on her wrist.