Dear Rosie

I wonder, what kind of black woman are  you?
Because as we discussed various -isms, you refuted your womanism, you refuted racism, you refuted sexism. You are "Rosie"

Dear Rosie
I want to know where you come from. Who taught you to tear down women that look like you, that came from a black woman's womb just as you did. Where did you learn to silence us in that confused mind of yours where you said our opinions irritate you and are worthless to your education?

Dearest Rosie
Tell me how the oppressed became the oppressor. Because as I look at your dark chocolate skin I am curious what you see when you look in the mirror. A reflection of privileged whiteness? You say oppression does not matter. You asks for facts. Well, statistics show us that people that look like you are dying whether you acknowledge your blackness or not. Women like you are being silenced and underrepresented in the public sphere regardless if you take it for face value. Women like us have lost sons to officers, husbands to cells, brothers to jails.

Dear Rosie
Wake the **** up. Each time you slice our tongues from the black reality that black women may not matter as much as they do in this safe space, each time you preach of your humanist kumbaya resolution that separates us from race gender and sexuality, each time you say our opinions do not matter, they win. The system wins. Because they'll use some token like you to represent our mass majority and say "She agrees with us so all black people do too." I refuse to be represented by a peer that denounces my womanism, my feminism, my black nationalism because it's not white enough for her (black) skin.
Not inclusive enough to a white population that has excluded people like me for centuries. It is not my duty to make some ******* feel comfortable with my blackness ,to relieve them of guilt when they've perpetuated guilt on me because of my blackness.

Dear Rosie.
Don't let them win.

Naked,
as the very first ray of light
and a single droplet of water

I am exposed here
laying on hot sand
and sinking further and further
into it's itchy dryness

I am insignificant
for I am alone
in a no man's land,
where there is but light
and no other life

In the womb of creation is where I transform
from evil into good
I shed my filthy skin
to become raw and new

All but a loud ringing is left
to fill the maddening silence
and I bow down
to let it fill my ears
with an insanity that crackles and bursts
only to teeter out into calm

This is the first day,
rebirth into a bright new world
and I will be fresh
and forget who she was
put it down and let go
and become who I am.

God felt fortunate to create women,
then why did we considered her as derision??
She was the reason, we could breathe,
then why did she faced all the wrath??

She had the beautiful strokes on her face,,
accompanied by an enormous amount of grace...
Though we contemplated them as her scars,,
but she assumed them as her stars....

She asked for her womanism,,
but we replied with our cynicism...
She said it is hurting,,
but we replied with our cursing...

Oh Woman!!! don't you know your variance,,
then why do you accept this vehemence...
Defy the disrespect ,mistreatment, misdeed,,
You know why ,coz you are a WOMAN!!!!