It is often easy to forget what I am
Media, music, and the white man
All telling me that for what I stand
Has no purpose here.
When I look at myself in the mirror at night
I am almost repulsed with the most unfortuante sight
Of my big hair, nose, eyes, and nose that have no right
Among such a broad face.
I look at magazines and models and women in the streets
To find myself thinking that they have me beat
In this invisible contest where I, the only contestant,
Am always the loser.
I ask my God why he made me so different
Why everytime I cry its always reminiscent
Of the face my parents gave me that is so opposite
Of everything beautiful on this earth.
And while most days are an endless daze
Of me putting myself through the most inhumane haze
To try and fit myself among the beautiful and worthy's ways
But some days it is different.
Some days I realize that I am a product of a proud African queen
And that I am meant to be heard and most definitely seen
My hair is extraordinary bold, stunningly proud, and visciously mean
And my wide nose is spectacular.
The world is mine, no matter how many try to strip me of it
It is not for simple or ignorant minded people to covet
For I am me- strong, beautiful and loved
I am a divine creation from the stars above.
And while it may seem it is impossible that a girl with such a different perspective of the world's scene
That she could be realizing her worth and incredible beauty at sixteen,
Deep within her, sometimes she is comfortable of knowing she is a queen
And that she most certainly has the bold blood of Africa.