Niggas.
Those niggas
ain’t yo niggas.
You hate those niggas
for not being yo niggas.
Those niggas
are their own niggas.
And owning niggas
was the only act
that made you feel
like a master.
—praise be thy name.
Black Woman dancing amongst the stars, in the twilight, by the moon, and beyond.
“You paint Blackness as ghetto, like that too isn’t art.”
Black man facing the wall. His hair wrapped in a black durag. One feminine black hand with long colorful junk nails rest on top of the man’s head, while the other feminine hand rest on his shoulders. (I do not hold the rights to this image.)
Black girl,
let me snatch your hair.
Scalp—bald you.
Let me wear your crown.
You don't need it, anyway.
It's not like your hair is silky straight—
easy to maintain, submissive.
Your hair is indecisive.
Wild Nappy Corse.
Your hair is loud, enormous.
It takes up too much space.
It never stays the course—ball knots at the nape of your neck.
You don't want it.
You don't need it
Take mine instead.
Don't you know silk is worth more than cotton.
Black girl,
let me wear you,
so you won't have to.
I'm doing you a favor—don't you see?
Don't you want to be just like me?
Black girl,
let down your locs.
Let me climb up.
save you from lofty towers.
Why be queen?
It's such an insufficient thing.
See that girl out in the field—
don't you want to be just like them?
Roaming the land at liberty,
rolling down hills carefree?
Black girl,
let me cut your hair.
Free you from your stress.
I'll do this for you,
I only want what's best.
Go down
hairless and free.
Go down,
down
out into the world.
And I'll keep safe
your ivory tower.
Your glass throne,
and all your diamonds.
Go down.
Have your joy.
I will wear your crown.
—and the Black girl went down.
A Black mother and daughter hugging each other. The mother kisses the daughter’s forehead.
