Posted in In progress, Poetry

Easy (Tentative title)

I am easy to slide down eardrums
relatively pleasant to look at
because no one is quite
sure what to do with me
I pronounce every syllable
and I am still working
on acceptable hairstyles
I do not speak unless spoken
to but my mind is always working
cogging along
before I can be anyone else’s
idea of a black girl

my ex boyfriend liked black girls
different black girls
he made the distinction
of calling me better than
prettier than
whiter than other black girls he knew
because I didn’t wear weaves
if only he knew that wasn’t a compliment
had the nerve to say I dumped
him because he was white
and I pro-actively black
raising right fists
while educating myself
about our atrocities

what happened in the south
the caribbean
leopold in the congo
down in the cargo holds
being three fifths of a person
couple hundred dollar price tags on our heads
denied civil rights, marriage, families
while women carry products of rape
serving trays of food to the father
and men mate horses
their hands turning rougher than steel
picking cotton in the fields

it was never about color
but it was always about history.
black history and what he failed to realize
I am unapologetic with my blackness
because I spent too long
hating myself because of it
so I am easy to slide down eardrums
I present what people white
people want to hear
and they pretend to listen

but in the end
I am just another black girl
nothing special to you
but to me, we are everything



Poet, Writer, Editor

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