Dear you
Who stands in front of me every night
And sheds off her clothes
Dear you
Who counts the number of bruises on her thighs and
Picks up a blade to multiply them
Dear you
If I could let my voice out
Through the cracks in me
I would tell you to shed off your skin too
Dear you
I would tell you to stand completely naked in front of me
Wearing only your soul
Dear you
If I could let my voice out
Through the cracks in me
I would tell you that the beauty you search for on your skin
Resides beneath it.
-Your mirror

- Dishita Kaushik

Please don’t say not all men, when me too
becomes me three, me four, then twenty,
two thousand, too many for boy to be boys
or locker room talk.

We can’t talk away when men power grab
for things they have no right to touch,
with 140 characters insincere apologizes.

It’s time to man up and speak out and say
that being a gentleman is more than chairs and doors.
It’s less bro fists, shrugs and awkward laughs.
Instead, it is not cool bro, and really man you know better.

Because we know better, we know what goes on behind
closed doors, and only dealing with it when the doors are open
is not a solution but a symptom of the problem.

Being a nice guy does not give you access to her thighs.
Compliments don’t allow you to pass judgements
and what she wears, where she goes and what she does
does not mean a free pass.

If this culture thinks silence is permission
than I will be loud until no one has to say me too.

In my youth I said I was more than black.
That my melanin was skin deep,
just a glance doesn’t reveal anything.
Time has taught me that I’m black enough.

I’m black enough that I got a college degree
to go with the Oreos kids called me

Black enough to pause when a cop rolls
by, even though I’ve committed no crime.
Black enough that I got family doing time.

Still black enough to be excited
about Black Lightning, Black Panther and Luke Cage.
Black enough to know people will see we are more than rage.

Black enough to never
let anyone call me outside my name,
and to rock twists until they became my mane.

See I’m black enough to know
I’m blessed enough to be made in his image.
That every breath in this body is a privilege.

I’m blessed enough to have two parents at home.
Blessed enough that God’s with me when I roam

I’m blessed enough to use these words as weapons,
cutting down all societal expectations.

Blessed enough to know that yes,
I am more than black,
but I’m still black enough.

The moon is beautiful tonight,
and it reminds me of you,
I wish you were here with me,
So you could see it too.

I know we share the same sky,
But right from where I stand,
It feels like no other person,
Has a view as grand.

If you look above you,
and your breath steals away,
I hope you know I'm feeling,
Exactly the same way.