You romanticized the struggle
And wrote explicit love letters addressed to my oppressor
Placed me at the front lines of a movement that doesn’t give a **** about me and my womanhood.
Ain’t I a woman?
Why don’t y’all defend me?
I don’t really need you to save me.
But, I want you to care enough to try.
I’m worn out from viewing Black bodies splattered on the news.
Sometimes, I cry at night.
Oftentimes, it spills over into the day.
I don’t tell anybody.
I’m still grappling with vulnerability.
You left me raw and exposed.
*** out.
Hung to dry.
Speaking of hangings...
...I don’t have any words.
I don’t get the privilege of having my hashtag trend.
I want to know if Black Women were supposed to be included in this revolution.
I’m pro black and pro woman, so I’m losing 2 wars at the same time
There’s no end in sight.
Sometimes kinfolk be arm and arm with the oppressor.
Why aren’t you in the trenches with me?
You **** right I’m angry.
I planned the march.
I coordinated the rally.
Now, I gotta teach your sons to validate me?
**** your respectability politics.