Black Girl

So, my skin isn't too light. Some might even say it's not right, just wrong. My hair isn't long by the beauty-man's standards. It lacks in flat and lifelessness. It's curly and wild, not wispy and slight. My eyes shaded with shadows and brown. My thighs are so thick, my hips too round, and I'm sorry, sorry, but I'm brown. I don't fit the stereotype, but I fit the image. I talk too proper to be melded to an expectation, but my skin is dark enough to stand out. I built the land I walk upon, myself stolen from my own. A place like a mother and queen was my ancient home and it's long gone. I'm sorry if my skin intimidates you. I'm not making a fist, just raising a hand to touch skies that were claimed by people cloaked in white. I am far from the sun that I have a right to; unable to cross oceans that my people might as well have moved themselves. I breathe an air restricted in usage by me. Why am I looked down upon in the land that I helped to build? Why is my beauty overlooked to others that are less deserving of a glance? I am human. I just have an area with a "V" and skin with a "B". I am a black girl. But I have done so much and lost so much and yet gained little. I am not just a black girl - I am human.



That was great. Read my "The blacker the berry the sweeter the love" poem and tell me what? tyou think

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