“Not me. I be wanting to cry so badly but not today, what I look like cryin…”

When the skin I wear like armor draws insecurities , hateful glances and disgust on the tips of their tongues

i could disarm you them with my melanin
what it feel like
like fatherless, motherless homes
like 2-3 jobs to get by
like social constructs designed for us to fail
like school with no reflection of my excellence on the walls
like history books callin slavery migration
like dance parties celebratin my music but not my ancestors
Like nigger bomb mindfields
like duckin and avoiding racist microaggressions
like work spaces, social spaces, hospitals, churches, shops all corners where we trade in our individuality for invisibility cloaks
what it sound like
like black men who don’t love outloud
african blood on my timeline
like prisons filled with our future
like justice systems that playin games
like perceived anger on the other end of the gun barrel
like wealth that they never intended on sharin
It feel like emasculation
like black woman beauty for sale and consumption
like hidden slangs and mother tongues
like a first generation child
like family slavery affected dysfunction
like the everythin is ok when its not type of love sharing
its knowing you gotta work twice as hard
its others decidin your worth
its culture appropriation
its double consciousnesses
Diming lights
…and bottled up hurt
What it look like a black girl cryin though
Not me.

(Nanyamka-Sisi, Those people, 2017)