Sorry, Not Sorry

                                                                         By: Josee S. Etienne

 

Like I'm sorry. But am I the only one tired of hearing "you're pretty for a black girl" or Is that your real hair? Well listen back to the time that takes us back… back then my ancestor were Creole slaves and on the sun they fed.

So sorry If my hair is too big and bold. If my skin is too dark and made of gold

 

I'm Sorry does my melanin offends you?

Does my feminism turn you off?

Is my eagerness to revealing? Because these last view days I've seen more white on black crime. Oh sorry I meant justice. So I'm waiting till you annihilate us all and call it peace.

 

Because history repeats itself.

I said history repeats itself.

Still today I'm still viewed as pretty for a black girl. And yes that's my hair. I paid for it.

But instead they want to hear me say thank you meaning I was complimented.

 

Those word rings my ears like a dog whistle. On all fours I Saw ancestors again.

So I look into the mirror and see a question mark. Still trying to figure out if I'm pretty or not.

Question marking my exclamation classifying period.

I place a comma between my everyday routines to stop after my sentences. Am I pretty?

 

So Am I pretty… exclamation mark!

I am pretty, question mark?

So I wear my heels just a little bit higher and my make up a little too much. Oh I'm sorry I just trying to be pretty for a black girl. And sorry I caught feelings I was just flattered that he thought I was pretty for a black girl.

 

His name was Anthony but through his eyes I read society.

I do my eyebrows to fit under physical beauty. I buy the same dresses to be more sexy.

I photobomb their pictures but you still can't see me. Society cropped us out. Photoshoping away our natural assets

 

So we spend more and try harder. No wonder we're loud. We're just trying to be heard. And yes most of us are crazy sorry we're just trying to be seen. We're so used to being limited. We now limit ourselves from a proper education. The proper clothes. And a proper love story. We've gotten so routine to being sorry and unhappy.

 

I said history repeats itself.

So take me back to the future. When I used to dream and so did he. That one day boys and girls will look pass the thick layer that seems to classify us. No longer embedding that our skin identifies us.