Yes I am a black woman. You always wanna talk about feminism and love and poetry and gender biasness. But never about racism because you consider racism to be the small talk. My black feelings are nothing but a crumpled sheet of paper for you which you have never taken into consideration.
You never wanna talk about it because my black color makes you feel socially uncomfortable. And that you have been publicly labelled as the white citizens of the country. You feel privileged and you are totally swelled-headed. You really don’t want to discourse on the inconvenience of black men, black women and my black daughter who was snubbed by all the Whites in her school. And how she learned from me that darling being black is not my mistake. Black does not mean slavery and black is actually not my definition but honey black is my beauty. Black is my phenomenal feature and that I will love my black a little more day by day.
So, now she knows that she is not just black in color but a beautiful black model who needs to adore herself everyday and that’s gonna be enough. You know, this universe has so called human beings who can never learn how to treat the black bodies. And believe me sometimes it’s not the world I talk about – it’s our own people who claim not to be our home but our house. This mere pretence shakes me and I quiver with stifled sobs. This jet black color has naturally sunken in tone to something so lifeless that it scares me to look down at my own body. But darling I am the stiff breeze who will blow with ease and walk a new lease on life which you can never seize.
So, when I talk about peaceful life I actually mean a black life. When I confabulate about beauty, understand that I mean black beauty. When I speak your name, comprehend that I mean your hands, mouth, guns and weapons you use to kill our black fathers. And to sexually assault our black mothers, defame our black sisters and lynch our black brothers. And when I specifically refer to your name, believe me I mean the callous punishments you give to our black siblings who refuse to work under your tyranny.
The twinges of sorrows I experience when you deny to publish a book which contains black thoughts is terrible. Dear, I request you to to read them once and realize that how beautiful a black can be.
Honey, I know that I don’t need to feel shattered at this inhumane plight where you are a remorseless being even at such a mournful sight. I know you don’t have the right to my emotions or my poems unless you sympathize with all the black mates of my country. And here I am today learning to be more cautious with my feelings. I am learning that what breaks me may not support me. I am learning that kindness does not reciprocate kindness. Because people are so different but you know I will prove to be the one who would flip the coin and bridge the unhealthy gap. Not because some inconsiderate ogre wants to break me down, but simply because they already broke me.
Trust me, I need this kind of creep in my life because I am a black who would split your head open to make it clear, that why black shines brightly. It is like you have never seen a beautiful black sky ever before tented with canopy of fulgid stars and luminous moonlight.
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