What, to the Black girl, is Freedom?
What to the Black girl is Independence Day?
Is it for me?
Is freedom for me?
In a land where Bill Cosby roams free
In a world where nobody looks after me
Who’s going to look after me?
Who’s going to look after the Black girls?
Do I celebrate the plot to tear me apart…
Take me down
Take my heart
Bash my likeness
Steal my brightness
Gripping my truth so tightly
A country that hates me so loudly
Takes advantage of my strength
Makes me a superhero and never pays rent
Tires me yet never quenches my thirst
Reaches for every bill in my purse
A country, a people, a community
That blames me…for everything
A union so profoundly against me
That they could murder me in my sleep
And blame me
That they could sell out my children to the streets
And blame me
That they could burn my opportunities on every Black wall street
And still. Blame. Me
Where is freedom to the Black girl?
When getting in the car takes all the prayer I can muster
To think I could never make it home, dead next to my muffler
When waking up for work means I hide
Every Black ass part of me, especially my backside
When running means I have to cope perfectly
And judgement is right around the curve of the track
Yet no one gives me an alternative or has my back
What is protection to the Black girl?
When even my own brothers hate to be kind
When even they gaslight and undo and unwind
The threads of loyalty and respect and pride
The places where they should
Every bus stop every hood
Every doctor’s office
And corporate office
And HOA office
And legislation office
And…every office
What to the Black girl is safe?
When my hair turns up the nose on everyone’s faces
When my nails are the topic of every conversation
When my skin gets scrutinized for its warmth
My hips are demonized for their charm
My speech is villainized for its dialect
All things that we thought would be protected
What to the Black girl is Independence Day?
When every time I reach for freedom, it’s burned away.
-Kristen Marie