There’s something about the black woman in I.
There’s something about the black woman in I that I can’t figure out.
And there was a time when I spent my days basking in this “not knowing” situation.
A time when I blamed the men and women around me, the people that couldn’t see what I wanted them to see but…
How would they see what I can’t?
I kept on crying about how disrespectful ****** were to me, how the women around didn’t understand the feeling of not feeling enough, how I blamed myself for everything that was happening because of me.
And yes, if it was because of me, then I am at fault and should blame myself for it
But the picture is bigger than that, it’s tougher than that, it’s darker than that.
Few years later,
there’s still something about the black woman in I that I can’t figure out.
Always complacent, always trying to be soft after a life of being the hardest rock, always trying to be mellow jazz when I was the heaviest metal, always trying to be touch like a piano but I kept on being the drums.
I’m still my own weakness, you know?
Now I’m not lying to anyone, I’m just lying to myself.
I walk in this made up power that I’m supposed to have and I built a whole bridge of it but it always trembles.
“You’re so beautiful for being a black woman”
It trembles.
“Oh you’re so well spoken for coming from the hood!”
It trembles.
“Are you sure you didn’t have any help making this?”
It trembles.
“You’ll never be like her”
And it trembles.
Still, I keep on going over that bridge because
I need to fake it until I make it, right?
I’m so tired of faking it, I’m so tired of feeling this way.
I’m tired of being policed over my blackness,
Over my hair and my body,
Over my womanhood and my mind,
Over my sad little soul.
Still, I keep on going through it in the hopes that I find what I want to find in the end.
“Oh what do you want to find?”
…
Oh, dear heart.
We were supposed to walk on lilies and green grass,
I’m sorry that we can’t.
Eight years later,
There’s something about the black woman in I that I can’t figure out.
And just like before…
I never will.
It’s so funny how you spend enough time forgetting something that once broke your heart in a thousand pieces
