starrivory

[starrivory]

Televised Revolution

As I stared in the mirror, I felt out of body. In a navy skirt-suit that complimented my chocolate skin, I stood in my childhood room that stood the test of time; everything it the exact place I left it six years ago to pursue my masters degree at Yale in political science. It felt like a lifetime ago. The house smelled the exact same as it did when I left that fall: like red clay, hot sun and the Florida water scented candles that lay on the altar grandma's had since before I was thought of. It smelled like home, familiarity, tradition. Her doing was sacred.

On the dresser, five small portraits. The smallest, my senior high school portraits, the others were me and grandma, grandpa, mama, daddy, Blair, Caylon and Kenneth and me with Daddy in a Alabama jersey as a baby. Prized possessions.

A silent vow, one of reverence, one of change stilled in the air. Everything is about to change. The hairs on my body stood up as the television downstairs grew louder and the local news reporter announced the results for the House Majority Leader were in.

My heels clacked lightly but with weight as I made my way down the hall to the staircase where the same oppressors that inflicted pain and trauma on my ancestors walked. The land was sacred, in more ways than one. Granddaddy secured the plantation after finding out we had rights to it through the toil and building our ancestors were forced to do.

The couch was littered with kin; grandma, daddy, mama, Blair, Caylon and Kenneth, cousins and aunts. The uncles were outside smoking cigarettes with the weight nearly every black man carries on his shoulders in resonance; trauma masked as toll aging.

Blair and I made eye contact and he stood, our passing glance exchanging everything I refused to say: I'm scared. Petrified. Prepared. He massaged my shoulders, "You got this sis. I'm proud of you." I smiled, although it only tightened the knot of unease in my stomach.

My phone buzzed and I nearly tripped over the cushioned bench to get it, Sasha, my campaign manager. Results are in, call me ASAP. she texted. I didn't call, there was no need. As if on cue, news vans began to pull onto the property, the sound of tires rolling on crunchy clay and rising dust like a sound of change coming. They circled like buzzards, reporters jumping out before the vehicles came to a stop. Everyone from the couch stood, as I stood stoicly in front of the main window. "Baby girl, you did it." Mama said. "I'm proud of you, Nafra." Daddy followed and so did others praises but my heart beating drowned the rest. I walked out, the screen door creaking with reverence and humility.

"Congresswoman Fitzgerald-Cabot." They addressed, it sounded surreal. It sounded like change. Like reckoning. Like blessing. But with such success comes those who try to downplay it, a common occurrence in the South even with its saccharine sweetness and backhanded nature. Conservative media rushed to label me a "DEI hire with DEI Yale Degree," and the "Democratic Party's new Facefront".

After answering questions, I went back inside, upstairs and shut the door softly with the lock clicking. I lowered in submission and surrender and raised my hands with humility. Lord, thank you. The tears streamed, the gasps tore at my heart but the faith was undeniable. A light vibration escaped from my phone even though it was on silent, No Caller ID. I started at it for a few seconds before realizing no one really had my number.

Answering, a voice I didn't expect to hear arose. Alain Arceneaux. "Madam Leader, I wanted to congratulate you. History in more ways than one." He spoke. "Mr. Speaker, I appreciate your congratulations." He hummed, "I'm excited to see where you'll take the party in this new position. Welcome."

[starrivory]

NEW BOOK: Glory Bound: Nafratita

'Ancestor Crowned, Glory Bound, Bama Proud' - N.C.F.C.

At the politically ripe age of 25. Nafratita Chiara Fitzetraid-Cabot shakes history and remolds it as the first Black woman from Alabama to become House Majority Leader in the U.S. House of Representatives. Yale-alum and relentlessly ambitious--she steps into the lion's den and opens pandoras box; breaking barriers like never before.

This reckoning in constitutional tradition catches the eye of Alain Jack Arceneaux, a 29-year old bachelor who holds the House of Representatives Speaker of the House position. But instead of undermining her or shunning her, he endorses her which leads to a story for the ages that stands the test through love that refuses to be tamed.

© starrivory, GLORY BOUND: NAFRATITA 2025. All rights reserved.

Do not repost, edit, or use without permission. Reblogs are welcome with credit.

[starrivory]

my spring essentials💐 (tumblr girls - g eazy)

wide leg mid-rise jeans, pear scents, cloth scarfs, pepino agua fresca, vinyl record player, ocean days, water flask, sparkling pellegrino, sunscreen, mascara, fresh fruits, reading thrillers/mysteries/autobiographies, French tips, Pilates, flexible yoga, lip tints, caesar salads w/ fries & root beers, piano, bible studies, celery juice, 10k steps, gua sha, journal, parfait bowls, plane sightings, longchamp, bouquets, Malcolm Todd being played 25/8, shopping & meditation.