1700
They say “I'm a pretty black girl”, a quote heard too many times.
“Black girls ain’t my type”, being black must be a crime.
You wanna see my head bowed,
broken without pride.
You call my hair nappy,
you curse my almond-like complexion,
“It was given to me by god
I like to think it is a blessing!”
To all you brothas born to mothers “black like me”,
who refuse to date women “black like me”,
cause’ I wear an afro like Angela and I speak politically,
most days I don’t wear make-up,
most days I’m wearing sweat pants and a small white tee.
But if I wore a straight weave and skin-tight jeans
switched my hips,
popped bubblegum,
labeled the neighborhood freak,
would I be considered more of your type?
Or would I just be that dark-skinned girl
you take home for the night?
Dark-skin and naked, I stand;
confident in my mirror,
lovin’ every angle
of the dark-skin woman that appears.
Why should I feel insecure because I’m not pretty through your eyes?
I like to walk around bra-less in love with my breast size,
I love how the sun hugs my skin
the kinkiness of my hair,
oblivious of how big my thighs have grown
in the last past year.
I refuse to hide my stretch marks
I embrace my flaws
accepting my most obvious
yet beautiful flaw.
