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Joelle A Owusu Jun 2016
A girl’s fully grown
Not by her lips,
her chest, or hips
But at the moment she knows
She must unlearn
The words of the world
That sparks friendly fires
And wish her to burn
In cruelty dressed as compassion.
Joelle A Owusu Jun 2016
Adored, yet we frown
Still adorned with a crown
That when gone, we can drift.
Or with pride, we will drown.
Joelle A Owusu Jun 2016
Sit up straight
And listen up,
Because this is not a drill and
I am only going to say this once:
I am not ebony -
A piece of decorative wood.
Nor am I chocolate-
Ready to melt into myself with the heat of your touch.
I’m not you’re “sista” –
We are not related.
And I’m definitely not your “gurrrrl”.
We never dated.
I will tell you what I am:
You may want to take a deep breath now…
I am a Black woman.
Yes, with a capital ‘B’.
I am a Black woman.
Who is exhausted because
everything I do is silently political.
Whom I choose to dance with in the club
Is political – “is she into white guys, or black?”
The way I answer the question:
“Where are you from…?”
“No, where are you really from?”
Is political – “You look different from me, so I need to put you in a labelled box and **** at you with my mind.”
Like saying I’m from near your ends isn’t a good enough answer.
My accent?
Political – “Why is she so well-spoken? Who adopted you?”
It confuses you, because it doesn’t match my South London skin tone.
The way I choose to style my hair
Is political – I wear weaves because I want to be European and hate myself. I wear afros because I hate Europeans and love myself.
How I pronounce my own surname
Is political – Do I simplify it to spare your blushes when you mispronounce it?
The music I proudly declare to enjoy –
Political.
I must be a secret bloke – like that Serena fella of the telly.
‘Cause no fuckable girl has looks like that.
And my skinny arms?
Well, they never fed me in the orphanage, remember?. I’m obviously malnourished like my family back in the Motherland.
You say: “I don’t see race – we are all one.”
Good for you.
but, I cannot afford to pretend to be colour-blind because
I am a Black woman-
Bottom of the rung.
I am affected and I am exhausted.
I am a Black woman-
But that is not all that I am.
Are you still sitting straight?
Can you hear me in the back?
Because this is not a drill
And this woman is Black.
Let me know your thoughts.
Joelle A Owusu Jun 2016
Does she notice the four sugars,
You sneak into your tea?
What’s she like, this girl?
The girl who isn’t me?

She hasn’t even realised,
The weird dent on your knee.
Who even is this girl?
The girl who isn’t me.

It’s been more than a fortnight,
Since you made me leave my key.
Did you give it to the girl?
The girl who isn’t me?

She’s thinner, smart and cooler.
No one can disagree.
But can you learn to love,
A girl who isn’t me?

Your clothes are where you left them,
in piles on the settee.
That girl calls it a ‘sofa’.
The girl who isn’t me.

**** this, I’m getting wasted.
One shot turns into three.
I’m tempted to drunk text her.
The girl who should be me.

It’s not like I’ve been stalking
Your profiles frantically.
I just can’t believe you’re seeing
A girl who isn’t me.

Does she put up with your mood swings?
When you’re loathing your degree?
How can you stand to be with?
A girl who isn’t me?

Just answer this one question:
What do you really see?
In that wretched girl you’re dating?
That girl who isn’t me?

I must be going crazy.
Who still writes poetry?
I bet your girlfriend hates it.
The girl who isn’t me.

I’m keeping your new console,
And your comfy blue hoodie.
That’s what you get for kissing
A girl who isn’t me.

Maybe I’m just jealous?
I think it’s clear to see.
You clearly love your girl,
Your girl who isn’t me.

You told me all your secrets,
Under that big oak tree.
Can you trust this girl?
This girl who isn’t me.

You can’t, that’s why you grab her.
Silence her every plea.
You laugh and call her stupid.
That’s what you did to me.

I must have dodged a bullet.
I know I’ve been set free.
I hope she breaks your heart.
The girl who isn’t me.

I cannot be the girl,
The girl I used to be.
I guess that’s why you’re now with
A girl who isn’t me.

I see this as a blessing,
It surely has to be.
You’re now stuck with a girl,
A girl who isn’t me.

Your days, my friend, are numbered.
You listening to me?
‘Cause I still know your secrets.
And they’re not safe with me.

The cuts, the bumps and bruises,
I claimed I could not see.
Does your girl have them too?
The girl who isn’t me?

I’ll do my best to save her.
She’s too naïve to see,
that you can’t control your temper,
with a girl who isn’t me.

I wear these scars like war paint,
For all the world to see.
They show how hard I fought,
For that girl and for me.

I did my best to save her.
I tried to help her flee.
But you damaged, hurt and ruined
the girl who’s now like me.

The creaking of your window.
How cold your house must be?
You’ll always have to live with,
the girl who once was me.

I hope this poem haunts you.
I’ll never say sorry.
That girl you called a weakling?
That girl just isn’t me.
Joelle A Owusu Jun 2016
Look in the mirror.
There’s a lot to celebrate.
That’s all I’m saying.
I wrote this about you.
My debut collection 'Otherness' is available to purchase now: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Otherness-Joelle-Owusu/dp/1535354585/
Joelle A Owusu Jun 2016
You are so wonderful
And it breaks my heart
Because
Because
No one ever tells
you
you
have come to believe that
you are nothing special
a pawn to their
queen.
Why poison your
Sponge-like mind
With thoughts of self-doubt
And pity?
When each little crevasse and pore
Deserves so much more?
Pity parties are never any fun
When all they do is host a party for one.
Joelle A Owusu Jun 2016
She is dark and her mind is a palace
She is dark and her knowledge will take her places
She is dark and her body is for herself first
She is dark and her voice is valid
She is dark and her thoughts will lead nations
She is dark and her just being is bravery
She is dark and her soul will keep dancing
She is dark and her dark has a purpose
She is dark and her dark is bright
She is dark and her dark is beautiful.

— The End —