Take a break and read thirty seconds of poetry--frosty poetry.
Winter wind
hold my wants
with bated breath
Winter wind
stay my desires
in chilled remembrance
May you run
frost and ivory
through my veins
Never to run hot
violent
my constant champion
Winter wind
pardon my heart
from perpetual freeze
Winter wind
Abandon your vigil
and relinquish my breath
Winter wind
thaw me
from the inside out
At least we're all in this together.
First day back
After traveling near and far
Wondering from home to home
Eating
Laughing
Enjoying
First day back
After relaxing in your warmth
Praying it will never end
Thinking
Wondering
Contemplating
First day back
After forgetting our circadian rhythms
Our bodies are slow
and cranky
On our first day back
First day back
Lord in Heaven
Grant me strength
Not to strangle anyone
On our first day back
To
Work
She was a living, breathing
Impossibility
Her eyes opened to sparks and light
Colliding in time and space
Her memories wrestled with past
With present
Her legs carried her away
Fleeing past regrets
Mistakes
Her mind grasped her trials
In an iron embrace
That refused to be subdued
She seized them
A grimace on her face
And a thundercloud in her mind
And it was then
That her thoughts solidified
To resolute resolve
Unbidden, unmoved
Her thoughts crystallized to immovable strength
Unbridled, undefiled, unflinching youth.
it was a scene of unbridled, undefiled, unflinching youth
we lay sprawled in starfish formation across the grass
that poked through the thin fibers of our clothes
tickled the tenderness of our flesh
as our small hands lay outstretched to an unknown god —
unknown to us
and us unknown to him.
the smell of earth and dirt seeped into our clouded heads
the smell of Genesis and Beginnings
and it made us think of the end —
of all things,
of us.
we spoke of nothing and everything
as the leaves rustled softly overhead
cocooning us in a blanket of nature's blank noise.
the dome above our heads
(God's watercolor painting)
peeled away layers of territorial night
revealing brushstroke sweeps of light periwinkle,
the pastel purity of promising morning.
though the sun hid bashfully from our eyes
we watched the colors bleed and fade
in our own private preview of the world beyond.
there we laid (sprawled) across the lightening grass
until the leaves no longer rustled
and our bodies grew numb
so we rose and lumbered home
with the painful knowledge that half of us would forget this
and the other half would tuck it into the basements of our memory
as a reminder of our peak —
the bloom of our youth.
Black girls ain't never had it easy; the hand-me-downs they are persuaded to take on are oppressively heavy.
When a Black Women complains the weight she bears is heavy, believe her.
Between doing it "for the culture" and shape-shifting for the status, Black Women are
always
staggering,
under the force of stereotypical hand-me-downs.
Culture claims Black women are "Jezebels
And/or
Mamies
And/or
Black B*tches."
Culture says "Black women can be nothing more;
Black women can only be less and at their best, they can only be second class..."
And to date, prominent Black women have pushed back on Culture's idea of them,
giving Culture a bit of
Whiplash
Because Culture, though always changing, isn't used to minority groups making demands.
I can't wait for the day that Culture's infectious stereotypes of Black Women are snuffed out and dismissed from popular opinion forever...
But I digress;
Despite the upward mobility of Black women,
The constant fighting of enlighten peoples,
And,
The prayers of Black mothers who secretly cry when the doctor says she is having a Black baby girl,
Culture's idea of Black women is still running the streets and pushing itself on any Black body who can't afford or doesn't know how to tell Culture to *uck off.
Has it ever occurred to you that it is hard to give back a gift someone spent so much time making for you?
Even if you don't want that gift
At all?
Culture's gives out these
Hand-me-down gifts
Like your sister's favorite, tattered shorts and
Like oppression and
Like momma's old, raggedy wedding dress and
Like low-self esteem and
Like grandma's oven-heated, excessively hot flat iron.
Culture's gifts are meaningful, but not worth a damn.
Powerful, but not empowering
Pleasant, but not f o r the recipient
Culture's hand-me-downs have been passed from
Whole nations
To whole societies
To broken Black women
To innocent, undeserving Black children
The stereotypes, without a doubt, cancel out Black excellence and instill
senses of inadequacy
described by double negative phrases of "Ain't no way in hell I can make it,"
And "who (head bob) does (clap) she (eye raise) think (clap) she (neck jerk) is (eye roll)" lectures from momma.
Momma took all of Culture's hand-me-downs.
She didn't know any better.
Momma, with her Mamie labeled blouse and her Black b*tch labeled skirt, only wants the best for her
Beautiful Black baby girl.
So Momma makes sure her daughter reads the Bible once a day
And say Culture's black-girl proverbs twice at night.
(Black Girl Proverbs 1-5 (I am sure there are more))
"She who slicks her gravity-defying hair back into a slick-European styled bun will appear more beautiful to potential employers"
"She who speaks little of her own opinions will win favor over her company's CEO."
"She who is naturally cursed with dark skin tones must stay out of the sun"
"She who wants to be loved must play a submissive role in her relationship"
"She who walks the straight and narrow path between boisterous womanhood and sullen girl-ness will gain access to a greater (more White) world"
Momma's daughter, if she isn't careful, might adopt these same proverbial phrases and make them her own life mantras.
But ya know, Black women, and all other groups of people responsible for the manufacturing and maintaining of ill-fitting Black women stereotypes, can cancel their subscription to Culture anytime they want.
We don't and you don't have to keep Black women boxed in.
A people, as I am learning, is only as enslaved as their mind
And Black women,
Black man,
Cream-colored people,
White people,
We all still have time
To unwind
To undo,
And to let die
The labels, stereotypes, and identities set against Black women
(for no reason or rhyme)
Black Women (and allies), I urge you to think.
Think about the hand-me-downs you've been given.
The baggage, and labels, and s*hit you never asked for
But from which you have always risen
When you finally acknowledge that Culture's hand-me-downs, both the stereotypes and mindset, are ill-fitting and down-right stupid,
Tell it, Anti-Black-Women Culture and those who still support it, to f*ck off.
You are a
Black
Woman.
You don't need no oppressive hand-me-downs telling you who you ought to be.
Go buy some new clothes
Put them on
Stretch them out
And test the limits of your unique personality.
(And allies, if you see a Black woman with her Afro sky-high and her smile bright, white, and wide, let her be!)
If momma, or aunty, or uncle, or daddy, or society tries to make you put on those ill-fitting hand-me-downs ever again,
Tell them
"I'm good love, enjoy"
#stayencouraged
