Black Woman

Why am I bitter or angry when I speak passionately about my feelings?
Why do I have to be compared to a white woman when relationship advice is being given? Being asked “Why can’t black women be as submissive as white women? They don’t ask no questions”?
Why am I told that even as a black person, my gender makes me weaker, which is hilarious because it is I who help you men run this world. It’s my sensitive touch, my sexy expression, my bold desire that helps you hold this world together.


Why do I have to be shut down by opportunities because my sex doesn’t fit the description? Because while men hold the world on their backs, it is women who keep it still so that it doesn’t tilt and men fall. It is women who keeps their wounds bound while mothering, feeding, and teaching.
Disclaimer: I am no where near a mother unless you count my fat cat Leo here.
I don’t mean to sound cliche, but Beyoncé said it best. Women do run this world.
If men weren’t so intimidated by a woman’s strength, you would think one of us would be in office by now.

Why am I criticized because of the way I prefer to wear my hair?
Why do I have to be brainwashed under the matter of extensions. News flash you idiots…white women wear them and I don’t see or hear their ass getting bashed for it. Why can’t it just be a preference for me?
Why do I have to be told I’m going outside my heritage because I like my hair straight?
Why do I have to hate my hair if I choose to cut it off?

I love my curls, but again, it’s a preference.
I’m not bleaching my skin because you don’t like my poppin’ melanin


Why do I have to be a bitch when I stand up for myself?
Why do I have to be extra when I express that I love the skin I’m in?
Why do I have to be too sensitive when I cry because I’m mad. I just want to punch you in the face and move on, I choose to be subtle and cry the anger away
Why must be I be tried as a black woman everyday?
You think that when you test me, I’ll fail
You think that as a woman, I am incapable
You think that with me being black, I am a target
You think you can break me

You think I am not able to be helped
You think my life is an attitude
Babyyyyyyy, you ain’t seen nothing yet
I triumph over all
I am that black woman you wish you could tear down and you always ask yourself why you fail at that
You’ve forgotten who I am. You continue to forget who I am
A beautiful, strong, successful, intelligent, bold, black woman