You call her a bitch, a slut, a whore, a prostitute based on your biased view of what entails the whole stature of a woman. The way your tongue rolls out and your lips fold inwards to let out the first “B” followed by a series of letters that don’t complete it to make out a ‘beautiful’ word. The hissing sound that comes before you pronounce the word slut and all the dignity comes tumbling down or prostitute because you do not resonate with a poor state of living and the hardships that comes with it. You fail me dearly.
Who am I?
I am a woman. A black woman. An African woman. My rich skin color that is a balanced medium of genetics from the generations of intertwining marriages. My eyes formed flattering my whole visage and offering you a straight passage to my soul. My kinky hair that you despise because it doesn’t reflect Kylie Jenner’s wigs. Yes, wigs. The audacity you have to shame me for the same beauty you should appreciate because mentally, you have conformed to the standard of those that know less but shout more.
I have been created to amplify the already existing beauty you carry; I am the very the torch that lights up the path. Never has there been a creature so powerful, so endearing than a black woman. A woman whose beauty you see past because you have been brainwashed to think white skin tone is better; black is a sign of shame and inferiority. You have clouded your own judgment because your mother failed to teach you the beauty of melanin and the depth it carries. You have failed yourself as you did not appreciate the raw form of natural beauty; free from maquillage and fillers. You are an idiot.
I am a black woman. I take pride in my culture; I take pride in my gender. I understand the power vested in me. The shallowness of my skin color cannot simply explain the vastness of my beauty, the depth of my willpower nor the raw abilities that you as a man find difficult to fathom. The radiance from my skin does not reflect half the beauty I possess or the intelligence I shower others with.
I am a woman. I am derived from man.
You create the first time and see that it is perfect but when you take a second look, you create something better with little or no errors. You achieve all the possibilities that you missed when you made the first trial. Practice makes perfect. Second chances are better than the first. That’s why, females are the superior species. Ladies first but, men before. Errors taken up by the first creation are more compared to the second one. The creator started from commanding light and developed significant ideologies that were better than the prior. He improved His creation day by day until he completed it by adding a significant piece to the puzzle; A WOMAN.
I am a woman. My body gives in every month to that fact. Have you ever heard of any living thing that bleeds on a monthly basis but doesn’t die? The ingeniousness of one hormone creating a series of reactions within the body in preparation for me to carry life. The intensity of the pain associated with the beauty of shedding the uterus every four weeks. No, it’s not a burden you diluted man. It is a gift. I am created to give. I give my uterus away every month to create it whole again. Have you ever asked yourself why it never runs out?
I am a woman and you cannot downplay the extent of my ability just because you are physically stronger. I will not be subjected to your shallow beliefs of what I should be just because the society is not open minded enough. I give life. You are reading this because it is by my doing that you are alive. In me, cells are formed and life is created. I feed that life from the composition of my nutrients. I convey what keeps you alive for nine months without qualms but with outmost philanthropy. Understand that without me you are nothing and onto nothing you shall become. I give you life. Straight out of my belly. You take form from what I made you to be. That is why it is harder for a mother to abandon her child than it is for a father.
I am a woman that does not stop giving. I give you my breasts to suckle on, my thighs to lay on and my back to place your head each time you lose your way. I shall take care of you when you are in my womb and I shall look after you long after you have found a woman of your own.
My place is in the kitchen and in the boardroom. Do not subject me to thinking any less of myself for I feed you when you’re hungry and quench you when you are thirsty. It is by my hand that you live, by my hand that you are disciplined young man and it is by it that your tears shall be wiped. I will feed you because I gave you life. Because I understand that I was ordained to be the giver and life shall be drawn from me to give more life. It is by me that you rule this world and it is by her that you shall not lose direction of what I made you into being.
I am a woman. A weapon to fight all the pain, a vessel of the future reigns, a symbol of hope and love and a statue of all that is right in the world. I will not be ashamed that my sexual organ is crafted inwards, I will not see myself from your diminutive brain that I am less instead I shall raise an army of empowered and self-aware females. I shall bump hips with my fellow women for I know the power that I possess. The power that she has cannot be contained. I shall turn my nephews and nieces into agents of change by embodying the very idea of change and all you men who address a woman by the derogatory words that you think are appealing to your fellow idiotic men; you shall fall on your knees for we made you into who you are.
So I am a black woman. To be celebrated and appreciated. To be put on a pedestal and praised for without me, there wouldn’t be a YOU. Be humble young man, sit down. I will not negotiate for the power already vested in me, I will drag the bull by the horns and it will bow to my form.
Do not be misled by the curves of my hips and the fullness of my lips that I do not work hard. Do not be foolish enough to think that people lay a red carpet for me each time my big toe touches the cold floor. A woman works hard for all she has and most times three times as hard only to meet a misconception that she slept her way through it. Ranked as an idiot because her face was curved marvelously, her bosom is as open as the morning glory flower and her derrierre carries all the shit you give her so it was made fuller. You diluted man who spreads rumors to defame the very structure that is synonymous to your mother’s just so that you can justify yourself as a failure or superior. Shame on you for being so callous and shallow that you put your laziness and shortcomings on a woman, may you wake up from the illusions that make you sleep better.
Let me help you ladies, you do not need that man to that extent, you do not need to whiten your skin or add silicon, you are a woman. You claim superiority. You are the fabric that holds a family together, the same fabric that a family is derived from. Rise from the place of despair and bewilderment that you have cocooned yourself in and rise into the marvelous creature that you were meant to be.
We are not interchangeable. We are not powder-puff girls and these men our professors, we do not come with a manual nor a recipe. In with the flour and water then stir and voila! It’s a woman. We are knitted with complexity and with precision that gives an element of surprise each time. No book can suffice the creatures we are because our convolution is far much greater than life itself. Do not let them extort you of your goodies and then insult your intelligence and if they do, get back at them tenfold.
Abandonment by the black man is a direct cause of our masculinity but remember that the ability to be strong, wittiness to provide and become single mothers was always in us, it just took a man to leave for us to realize that power.
A cynical mind cannot comprehend my passage or the greatness we carry and it is not our mandate to solve closed mindedness with vehemence. But it’s to show them through our actions that we form the basis of their existence.
So it is from the tempest of my fear that I shall rise to become the woman that I was created to be. A woman that I should be, a woman that I am.
Forgive the women who;
Take your husband so that they can breathe air above the clouds
Those who do not want to realize the potential they have in the society and force us to fight twice as hard
Let’s her fear hold her hostage because a man told her she was not enough
Skips this article because she is too lazy and still resigns to the idea that reading is boring.
Be bold. Be beautiful. Be a woman. A Black woman.