“Mommy, how old do I have to be to read Audre Lorde with you?” asks my daughter. She sees me reading her essays and poetry often. There’s a copy of sister outsider that doesn’t live in my bookshelf. Instead, it is a nomad making its way through the many terrains and surfaces of our household. My 7 year old daughter wants to tap into her magic too. I think she’s too young but I also think she is an old soul longing to commune with the contemplatives at her caliber. For now, I read a few lines of Audre Lorde’s poetry to my daughter as we lie in bed and she snuggles into me.