Poetry Post 7: Unity Poem 2

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

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Black in Color not Stereotype

ster·e·o·type (stĕr′ē-ə-tīp′, stîr′-) n.

1. A conventional, formulaic, and oversimplified conception, opinion, or image.
2. One that is regarded as embodying or conforming to a set image or type.

 

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.

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Enough Is Enough

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I am tired of being tired. I am tired of feeling helpless. I am tired. Enough is enough. In the last few days there have been senseless murders of men at the hands of “law enforcement.” People around the world are all cried out, drained from seeking justice and being met with a new name to hashtag.

So now what?

We march? We pray? We fight?

All the above I guess.

 

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