My Child

If I have a child I want them to be darker than coal and midnight. I will hold them tight. No loose curls but coarse and kinky hair. Tell them that their coils are the privilege of a life that wasn’t fair. But that somehow we made it here. “Mommy” they might ask me,”Why aren’t you dark like me?” And I’ll tell them it was because of the horrors of slavery. How rape and blood made me light. But fortunately for them, they were made of life. Black love and not of strife. If I have a child, I want them to be, proud of the skin they’re in. Not let anyone tell them they’re not a ten. That they can go to Africa and stand in any country therein. And be just like the people their ancestors knew back then. Before we were looted and shipped here. Their eyes might well up and be full of tears. But I’ll hold them to me and say, “My dear”. “There’s no reason in hell, you should fear”. Because your dark skin absorbs the sun and makes it clear. That you are way too precious to be here. They’ll stand tall, their back straight and proud. Never will they ever hear these words aloud. “Black and ugly” because it’s not true. But “Black and beautiful” because it is the truth. The darker the berry the sweeter the juice. The darker the flesh, the deeper the roots. If I have a child, I want them to be...darker and blacker than me. I want my child to be kings and queens.
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06.06.20