Dear Young Hafeezah,
It was the year of 1990; you were always a quiet child with an active imagination.
I watched you walked down the halls of Dubose Middle School trying to make yourself invisible.
Each day you wanted to become someone else instead of who you were.
Your head was covered in long pigtails with different color hair clamps on the end.
You were tall and thin in statue almost equivalent to the shape of a boy.
You wondered how the same girls your age could have curves and breasts.
You secretly wanted to be like them laughing on the courtyard with their equally curvy friends.
You started the school year late because of Hugo and on top of that you were a transfer.
It was a relentless form of torture playing the game of disappearing and reappearing each day.
I often wondered how you survived, and how many times you cried not to return to school the
next day. The reality is you were simply magical waiting patiently for someone to say, “Hafeezah can you
come out and play.”