On Monday, literary giant Nikki Giovanni died at 81. Shortly after the news of her passing became public, there was a palpable feeling of grief among Black women who loved her and the body of work she gifted us.

This loss was especially poignant for writers like myself. We carry not just interpersonal grief for a beloved role model, but also the connection of complexity. While we grieve Giovanni, we simultaneously rejoice simply because she existed. Had Giovanni not used her gifts and brilliance to pave the way for generations of poets, writers, activists and thinkers, we may never have been able to hone our crafts and share our work with the world.

Her influence was widespread; there’s a good chance that hip-hop would not sound the same, since she had a profound influence on the style of some of the greats. The scope of her legacy was expansive. Every Black woman who can transform her energy by reflecting on the words of “Ego Tripping” is tangible proof of the magnitude of Giovanni’s ability to empower.

We still share, watch and talk about the legendary conversation between Giovanni and James Baldwin. In those moments, with ease and elegance, she seamlessly modeled what it looks like to be an intersectional feminist long before many of us had the language to call it such. When Baldwin discussed the way police officers brutalized Black men in the streets, Giovanni acknowledged that violence as very real — but also explained that sometimes these same men who are victims of police violence come home and behave abusively toward their Black wives (who are often victims of police violence themselves). These complicated truths have been integral to moving forward as a community. Giovanni managed to hold space for Black male trauma while acknowledging that Black women oftentimes live at the intersection of state and domestic violence. The gems and lessons were bountiful.

Giovanni gave us language in so many ways. In her transformative book, “Cotton Candy on a Rainy Day,” the poet and scholar showed us how to express the sorrow we feel when the work and dreams we sowed to make America the best version of herself dissolve like sugar under a stream of water. If you are a Black woman in America, you have, at some point, held that sorrow and frustration in the pit of your stomach whenever your brilliant ideas at work result in more labor and increased expectations, but not higher worth and compensation.

Regardless of how we personally feel about Kamala Harris, the fact that a highly educated Black woman with the clear qualifications to serve as POTUS lost to a twice impeached, convicted felon who was credibly accused of sexual assault, speaks to how soluble the promises of America truly are. Giovanni gave us the language to express the disillusionment we were left with.

We can never replicate her legacy, but those of us who were transformed by it owe Giovanni our commitment to continue it. As we mourn, I think about what our contribution should look like.

For some, honoring Giovanni’s life means empowering, supporting and carving out a lane for the next generation of Black women and using our words to spark the imagination that will change the world.

For others, this will mean holding onto what she taught us about our relationships: “Black love is Black wealth.” Black love, she taught us, is far more inclusive than romantic partnership — it encompasses the way we love and engage with each other as a community, as well as the Black families we create. And, for many of us, our contribution will look like speaking the truth even when it’s inconvenient and uncomfortable. This particular act is challenging but necessary, especially now.

For Black poets, authors and essayists, this will mean reflecting on what she taught us about writing from a place of empathy and using our voices in a world that tries to silence us. As a collective, I hope we carry and protect her legacy by decolonizing our imaginations and dreaming of a world where Black people are our own authority on what constitutes love, joy, success, and wealth. We owe it to Giovanni to turn her words into action. We owe it to her to make sure future generations have that agency as well.

I often think about the fact that Giovanni was only 28 years old during that conversation with Baldwin, who was 47 years old at the time. She studied his work, followed his career, and was aware that she was speaking to a giant in his own right. Yet, she knew that she too carried wisdom. She seemed utterly aware of her own greatness. She would remind us again later, in “Ego Tripping,” of the power she’d inevitably pass on to us.

I am so perfect so divine so ethereal so surreal

I cannot be comprehended except by my permission

I mean ... I ... can fly

Like a bird in the sky ...