Since I caught wind that Ava DuVernay was creating a mini series about the “Central Park 5,” I was overcome with emotion. I was excited, because although there was previous documentaries and coverage of this notable case, it just feels different when it’s coming form “one of us.” I was thrilled, because not only did I believe Ava would do right by the five men whose childhoods were cut short because of this, but I felt she would dig deep and research and share things that were previously unknown.
I see the way you look at me
the way you stare
those eyes full of hate
your judgmental glares.
I’m not a size two
nor do I care about the coil or kink of my hair
I won’t apologize for my self-love
that you can’t bare
a beautiful woman of color
nothing can compare.
I hear your disapproving whispers
your pointing fingers
because of the beauty you fail to see
And a love you don’t understand
Mad cus we interracial
I call to embrace reappraisal
with it my magnificence glows
You try your hardest to make my highs
so low, your mindset is so skin deep
it makes me cynical, makes me livid, makes me weep!
Your insults will no longer bring us down
We will come together black & brown
Strength and courage to uplift us
You can continue to fuss
We are minorities no longer
We’re making a comeback
We coming back stronger
Brown & black
The underdogs no more
Higher and higher together we soar
Like Maya Angelou we will rise
To your hate we say our goodbyes
You can no longer enslave us our minds are free
Today we let go of your negative thoughts towards we.
By: Stephanie Cofield & Viola Constance
ster·e·o·type (stĕr′ē-ə-tīp′, stîr′-) n.
The struggle to separate oneself from color is one [impossible] thing as it is something that is beyond your control. But separating oneself from stereotypes, although tough, is something that can be done. It just saddens me that I have to do it and the effort that goes into it. Why must I be prejudged on account of formed opinions or the actions of a select few?
It’s kind of sad to admit that I’ve always told myself “don’t be THAT black girl.” Who is that black girl exactly? You know, she’s how they portray us in media and music. Everything that my mother told me not to be without reason. The loud, mouthy, angry black woman. The one who is always in everyone’s business, gives major attitude and then some. All in all she is a headache. She is labeled ghetto. She isn’t heard nor is she taken seriously.