A letter from a place of dis-ease
Black woman, I see you. Does that mean anything when the world hides our ability to go, grow, and glow? When you have been the glue stronger than Elmer's withholding the ish of the world together. Silence, the man is coming.....
I am living in a dis-ease of my hidden role within the traps you have paved and made for me. Like a hamster when I get tired and want to come off you remind me my place is to keep the world turning from the background. If I dare to peek out and know my real ability, creativity, and agility, then you will remind me of the so-called role.
I get it. I am to keep my head up hope that you fix it, and keep quiet on the fact that I created it. Creator of man. Creator of woman. Creator of creation. Who do you think is responsible for the ability to birth?
Silence, the man is coming...
Forgive me as I have forgotten that you need me to make the world go. You see a hamster turns the wheel with focus, tenacity, resilience, and strength. In my season of absence, I prepare. I watch, I create, I establish, I birth. My wheel keeps turning and turning and birthing and birthing. To stop me is to stop you. So the real di -ease might be from the near fact that I created you and you have yet to accept. I was born to lead, to glow, to produce and you, you need to figure out who you are. Leave me out of it as I was established to bring beauty, shine a light, birth, and prepare. You, well that's for you to figure out. So, leave me out of it. Leave me out of your racial biases. Leave me out of the fears you have behind your inability to think, react, and move in such a way that millions dance. Leave me out of your manipulation to persuade others through tactics to outshine me. I am the light. I am the truth. I am the word. The beginning and the end. So Leave me out of your tantrums as you find out how much you come from me.
Your disease of self-identity is leaking into the world. Biohazard alert on aisle 47. Black woman it's time to remember your assignment and go beyond the so-called limited role of a small-minded thinker.
Black woman, it's time to remember the many ancestors who cried out in war and found their true power was between their legs, within their souls. It's funny how women and men want to rob us of the brain, the soul route to creation. Looks like they figured out the right or shall I say route of power.
It's not a coincidence that you silence women through rape, force, shame, and name-calling. Looks like you have seen where the lifeline routes. The black woman now more than ever it's time you stand. Stand in front of the mirror and see the very lifeline of creation that runs from the vein to the valve to the vulva to earth. They all seem to have V no coincidence to wake you up and remind you of the victorious being you are. Black women stand with a sense of assurance and remembrance that if it were not for you then there would be no them.
Silence, the man is coming...
The presence of man, the illusion of power of man has made you forget that without you there is no him. So the next time you think your hope and help comes from someone outside of you stand in the mirror and feel the blood of the ancestor rising within, calling and cheering you on to take back the world that has been stolen.
47 had one thing right. Going back but only back to when women stood in places, rooms, homes, and within the world as the very essence of your being. This remembering takes true effort, and true reflection so don't be so quick to surrender when it was you in birthing rooms for hours fighting, pushing, and not giving up as you knew the importance of the birth. Women our bodies are the essence of it all. Our moves, our touch, our shapes. The world has shamed you long enough and lied to you putting your body in a disease with its tactics of extra hormones, commanding it to be someone else's. Black women remember because when you do you will know it was never outside of you to fix things. You were the very key being hidden.
Black woman remember
Black women remember like your life depends on it.
Commenti