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rey Jul 2017
one time a boy told me he liked my straight hair better
i told him but that's not my natural hair
i felt insulted

and he said "what are you talking about?"
"i'm complimenting you"

i brushed it off
put the thought away

but as i stare in my reflection
as i touch the coarse, thick curls
my mother and father bestowed upon on me
passed down from generations
of mexican ancestry

i felt the hurt
i felt the words in my head
"maybe if your hair was straighter
maybe if your skin was lighter
maybe if your nose was smaller
and pointed"
maybe then i would be the perfect
version of myself

but as i began to notice
flowers sprouting in the women around me
loving, appreciating their thick untamable manes
my mind began to flourish
away from the deception
i had been told my whole life
a bold lie
that changed the perception of myself
that made me scrub my skin in attempt to make it lighter
a lie, so discreet and so subtle
that my self esteem descended to nothing
when looking at the natural reflection of my skin, my hair, my eyes, my hands

as a child
as a teenager
i believed the lie

but as a young woman now
i can tell you
it's deception, oppression
to keep woman of color
at inferiority to the european white

embrace your curls
embrace your melanin
embrace your wide set hips
embrace all the things you were once told to hide

i will be who i was born to be
and i don't need anyone's opinion
on how my hair looks

this is who i am
a mexican daughter
wise enough to recognize
the strength and beauty in our differences
ZoeValley Nov 2016
I'm so much better than this
I'm much better than the girl who let's her weight define her
I've read all the quotes that tells me what really matters
That tell me it's my personality , my mind, my humor and my soul that matter
But I feel so betrayed
I have all of that
But  I can't see past my circumference
I'm talented,  I'm smart and beautiful but everyday
Like clockwork
I cringe at the glimpse of my reflection
I exert myself on the treadmill hoping it'll make a difference
Count calories to see how many are left for the day
I'm so much better than being the girl whose crane in the sky is something so superficial.
Andrew T Jun 2016
An airplane crashes into an uncharted island and hundreds of people die in the burning debris, and somewhere a group of boys and girls are taking selfies as they stand next to a burning office building.

Thousands of teenagers sit on the couch and eat ice cream until the buttons on their pants explode off.

Kids light themselves on fires as if they were monks from the Tiananmen Square, trying to gain acceptance, their dreams of stardom translated through a series of YouTube comments.

We can't afford books for college because the tuition is ridiculous, but these glossy tabloid magazines are only a few bucks; pick one to set the course of your life.

Middle-aged people spend their lives indoors, away from the thirsty, hungry, withering children, and check how many likes did their photos receive on their smartphones.

Pornographic images in front of our tired faces, our eyes locked to the screen and we do not blink as our memories become embedded with objectification.

So we don't look up and see the chaos transpiring.

Cat memes and colorful gifs hold our attention while our parents slave away at their boomerang-shaped desks, trapped in clustered cubicles.

I saw a post on Facebook of a girl who was sexually assaulted at a house party and now her name was being hashtagged and kids were posing in photographs, laying on the floor, legs and arms sprawled out, left and right, trying to mimic the injustice.

We swipe right to find our future hookups, but what if our future husbands and wives were on the left?  

Society spends millions of dollars on drinks to numb our conscience, until our brain cells are wretched like the homeless guy on the street corner drinking liquor from a coffee mug.

Israel and Palestine battle each other day after day while our generation gossips about Solange Knowles beating up Jay-Z with her patent leather purse as if that news conquers every other bit of information out there.

The world will always be corrupt, but it suffers more from the apathy that belongs to us.
Jazmine Moore May 2014
Your wicked love seems to be the only thing that revives me everytime.
I run away countless times just to wake up in your arms
& your kisses are the poison that continues to run through my bloodstream and
One day, I'll wake up to you and you'll be mine forever
& when sun rises on that morning,
I'll cry a sea of tears that have been trapped inside of me all of these years
And we will make love like fire and there won't be any amount of rain to put us out
We'll travel to Asia and to outer space and we will stay up all night and listen to the ocean..
And frankly, I wouldn't have it any other way because, baby, you're my drunk call at 4am, you're my 143..
You're mine.
Jazmine Moore Apr 2014
Mesmerizing glory.
Snowflakes falling down on us like old memories.
One touch, and you're frozen.
Not because of the hate,
but because of the love.
Sadness is intertwined in our fingertips.
Three words. Eight letters.
I love you.
The words will forever hold true but the fear of them keeps them inside of us.
I cannot bring myself to understand why people are so afraid to love.
Demolishing demons dancing upon bare bodies at night while young women and young men are spending more time on physical interaction than emotional satisfaction.
Satisfied with lusting one's surface is something I can't comprehend,
I'd rather love your core.
My appetite is growing because I'm starving for your soul as if I hadn't had a meal in months..
and to be honest, I haven't.
Because no matter how much I eat, I can't seem to get full.
And no matter how much I drink, i still thirst for more of your mind, your body, and your soul.
I may have lost someone who didn't love me,
But you lost someone who truly loved you.
I am done searching for the light at the end of the tunnel because I have discovered God in the darkness.
I loved you at your darkest.
Slowly flicking a switch to find the bulb had blown out,
I loved all of you..
and all of you loved it.
Reciprocation is all I pray for at night and as day break arose,
I found myself loving the darkness once again.

— The End —