Give yourself a hand.
Expression lines, stretch marks and your curvature. They’re raving about them all.
The way she fixes her hair, smiles and arches her back right down to her taste.
You can’t put this in bottles.
The sweetness could drip from vines and still not be understood.
You cannot be uprooted.
You can only grow.
The truth of the matter is you’re just as prone to mistakes as the next person. Instead of realizing that, that microscope is for you. They love to study you. Acting like you don’t bleed the same.
Monthly woes, like bills but the price they pay to mimic you does not absolve them of their wrongdoing or sin. Wanting and needing to be validated.
You are practically their source of income.
Language is the currency and you’ve been labelled wrongly.
Delilah, Jezebel, Welfare Queen, Baby Mother.
She’s been the subject of debate for too long.
As white women hem and haw over her hips lips and everything that touches her skin.
I already told you, they’ve been trying to cop the bootleg.
Your smell, right down to how you wear your hair.
But something’s inauthentic.
See, wearing dreads won’t make you understand the culture.
Back alley ass shots or discount plastic surgery won’t help you become more appealing to a man that truly matters. Popping up in tags that don’t and never meant to include you wont make you hip or more likely to be praised by your counterparts.
But you don’t understand.
There’s levels to this shit.
Like her skin that varies based on how the sun touches it.
Like her beauty that accentuates her mind and spirit.
It takes time to comprehend how a muse can be a source of discord.
Line your lips with Soar, date outside your race.
Invade social media outlets and cry foul.
She’ll still grow.
Like that hair you have a problem with but stay trying to master.
The kinky girls with the kinkiest textures are usually the ones that fuck your perception.
All the way up.
It’s anti climactic to expect Sapphire all the time.
Studying the prototype and aesthetic is only going to make you disappointed.
Baby, lip liner can only do so much.
Let her breathe.
Told you, despite your studying she’d continue to grow.
Beautifully and completely.
Labels mean nothing.
Renaming doesn’t change worth.
The white book of knowledge you’ve been skimming over told you incorrect information.
But keep up the behavior.
Water her soil with your white tears.
Male tears too.
She will continue to grow.
Even when history continues to count her as a weed.
The only direction to go is up.
To say “I’m here for you, brown and black girl.”
Even when they swear they’re doing you better than you ever could.
Your power is in your progress.
Mouth, hips and voice.
Like the flowers they’ve been trying to stamp out.
Prove them wrong.
Be who you are.
Even when they study you so hard their eyes hurt.
Flourish despite them, naturally.