My dear nieces, I write to you with love and belief in the boundless possibilities of your lives. At ages 14 and 4, you might not fully grasp my words, but as you grow and embrace who you are, understanding will come. I know this because I’ve observed you both and because of the history and sacrifices that shaped your existence.
America is marking its 250th birthday in 2026, celebrating freedom and democracy. But when America was ‘founded’ in 1776, many of our ancestors, Black people, were enslaved, building the foundation of this young nation. Despite noble words from Thomas Jefferson and others, those declarations of equality didn’t extend to people like us. They excluded poor Whites, Indigenous populations, and Blacks, and definitely did not encompass women or girls, much like yourselves.
From the outset, America has been a turbulent experiment, rooted in race, racism, sex, and sexism. This is why I write to you. Your parents, grandparents, and your aunt—my wife—have survived much. At 4 and 14, I didn’t understand the world I was part of. I believed if I followed my mother’s teachings—faith, education, hard work—life would be straightforward. But for Black Americans, it is never simple.
“It’s hard to feel freedom when your people were bound for nearly 250 years, freed only after a brutal war.”
Freedom and democracy felt distant for generations, taking 100 more years before those like my mother had voting rights and a semblance of citizenship. The Civil Rights Movement, driven by figures like Ella Baker and John Lewis, was transformative not only for African Americans but for society itself. Without our cultural contributions, America would not be what it is today.
I grew up in poverty, with a single mother and absent father, amid despair. Yet, my mother, despite her limited education, was visionary; she enabled me to pursue dreams deemed impossible. I achieved my goal of being a writer, visited all 50 states and 5 continents, possible because my ancestors dared to dream of freedom and democracy.
This 250th anniversary witnesses closed doors once opened, returning to the hatred and violence my mother described in her segregated America. Though uncertainty lurks, we confront it with resilience. You are Black and girls destined to be women—a truth to cherish. Black women and girls are unparalleled leaders. Though racism and sexism persist, it’s Black girl magic that drives change.
Self-love is vital. Understand history as your guide to know who you are and your origins. Despite lurking evils, you are enough to achieve anything you desire. I urge you both to advocate for freedom and democracy, never be silent, never give up.
Some might accuse me of focusing on you or race excessively. Contrary, I love and respect all people, striving to embody love every moment. I expect you to do the same. Yet love shouldn’t diminish self-worth.
We live in dark times where ‘otherness’ leads to marginalization and harm. Facts are disregarded and some lives devalued. Ignore these voices. Listen instead to those who cherish love and hope. America celebrates freedom prematurely. True freedom means opportunity for everyone, inclusion for all.
As you grow into women, never forget your equality with men and the respect women deserve. Any society that disregards women similarly undervalues life.
This is my prayer for you—a future America I might not see, but one that I trust can exist because you do. Though not easy, as my path wasn’t, I possess eternal faith in our presence despite challenges.
Your uncle, Kevin Powell
Kevin Powell is a GRAMMY-nominated poet, humanitarian, filmmaker, public speaker, frequent contributor to Newsweek, and author of 17 books, including his newest poetry collection, A Poem for Evangeline, And Other Songs. Kevin lives in New York City. Connect with him on social media by searching poet Kevin Powell.
The views expressed are the author’s own.