Intimidation stopped me from posting this sooner.
It was the end of the last short story session. I flipped through Midnight and Indigo: Twenty-Two Speculative Stories by Black Woman Writers, looking for a short story to grab my attention. I didn’t search far. Just 26 pages into the book, I read the first line of “Watercolors” by Ravynn Springfield: “Casta Davis could fly, and no one believed her.” It hooked my attention immediately. The line is concise, resigned, and beautiful: a callback to “The People Could Fly” by Virginia Hamilton. I loved the relatability of no one believing in Casta’s magic, or even the flawed perception of no one believing in her power. I read on and fell in love with a beautiful and lyrical story of Black girl magic.

Then I met and befriended Ravynn. She is a powerhouse: kind, intentional, and brilliantly talented. She’s a multifaceted artist who doesn’t suffer fools. I panicked. Imposter syndrome had me in a chokehold. I couldn’t muster the words to describe everything I felt and understood from “Watercolors.” I feared not saying everything I needed and wanted to say.
But in the spirit of Toni Morrison, a beloved writer of ours, I decided not to work through the block. Instead, I made space to work out my thoughts before I continued. I wanted to speak about the story from a place of love, not struggle. After all, this is a love story to Black girls, our community, and the supernatural powers we exude.
Synopsis
Black girl magic reigns in “Watercolors” both figuratively and literally. The speculative short story follows three Black college-age women. Their seemingly coincidental journey leads them to find each other and discover a secret that all Black girls carry. In order of appearance: Casta Davis, the girl who could fly, is a dancer whose insecurities lead her to compete with everyone, including her eventual best friend, Dove. Dove Spenser is also a dancer: beautiful and graceful. With her telepathic abilities, Dove can see the whole of a person. Veronica Hill is an artist who struggles with how she’s seen in the world and is a shapeshifter. All three young women keep their powers hidden. One fateful day, they come together, share their gifts, and recognize what all Black women have in common.
Together, Together, Together
“Watercolors” acknowledges and celebrates the differences among Black women. I could write an extensive piece about the diversity of Black women in the story; the matrilineal, generational discovery of magic, their names and appearances, and how they carry societal burdens and navigate harmful systems and stereotypes. But I want to focus on the friendship between Casta and Dove. Their relationship shows how trust plays a pivotal role in progress and community development, especially among Black women.
Zora Neale Hurston says it best in Their Eyes Were Watching God that Black women are the mules of the world, and that position has devastating effects. Regardless of socioeconomic status or our place within the African diaspora, Black women navigate and are impacted by oppressive systems in a myriad of ways. This can sometimes hinder how we see ourselves and each other. Some folks prefer to serve humanity’s more hierarchical desires and place themselves above others (see Butler). And some folks have been overwhelmed by society’s worst expectations, which leave them either unable to see their own worth or fearful of being rejected by the community. What both groups are missing, especially the latter, is trust in others. Stringfield highlights this in Casta and Dove’s developing friendship.
The two women began as foils of one another. Casta is highly insecure, while Dove is very self-assured. Casta creates a one-sided competition that Stringfield rightly declares unnecessary. Remember, Dove is telepathic. She can hear all thoughts, including the dark ones people “keep shut away tight where they thought no one could see.” Can you imagine the patience Dove displays as she listens to all of Casta’s insecure thoughts, waiting for the day that Casta chooses to be honest with herself and trust that they were “better together”? That type of competition hinders individual and community growth. Those insecurities kept Casta in a negative feedback loop. Their friendship couldn’t blossom until she learned to be vulnerable and confide in others.
Many of us have internalized struggles that become obstacles on the journey to friendship and community. Most times, if we’re lucky, a gentle soul patiently waits for us to find the beauty and magic within ourselves. On behalf of the Black Women’s International Insecure Club, I would like to pay homage to the Doves of the world. To those incredibly patient friends: thank you for seeing to the core of us. You keep us in community and push us to be better. We are forever grateful for that.

The Morrison Echo
I’d be remiss if I didn’t address my love for Stringfield’s writing style. In “Watercolors”, I see echoes of Toni Morrison’s influence, with a touch of a visual artist’s imagination and fluidity. The story, much like Morrison’s catalogue, conveys the Black girl’s interior as a wonderfully complex place, juxtaposed with ordinary language. And like a watercolor painting, the story flows over and around the reader, with emotions and actions gently blending to create a serene portrayal of the brilliance and depth of Black womanhood. It was gentle, something I’m appreciating more often in literature.
I’ve been reading other works of hers, and let me tell you, there isn’t a story I haven’t fallen in love with. I can’t speak on what I’ve been reading, as they are unpublished works. But WHEN they are published, I’m telling everyone about it!
YOU MUST READ THIS!
Black women are incredible beings. But watching Black women unite through insecurities, fears, passions, and differences to find our power? That is Black girl magic. Stringfield captures this in “Watercolors” and puts it into practice in the real world. Enjoy the story, and be sure to harass her and give her her flowers expeditiously!
The next short story chosen is “Unkind of Mercy” by Alex Jennings in the New Suns: Original Speculative Fiction by People of Color, edited by Nisi Shawl.


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