Black women with the negro features, go on and do your thing girl. Black women with the itty bitty waists, go on and do your thing. Black women with the big bones and round figures, go on and do your thing. Black women with the naps, do your thing girl. Black women with the bouncy curls, do your thing. Black women everywhere remain as Queens.
Our strength flows from head to toe. The vibrancy in our smile, the glistening sparkle in our eyes, the sway in our walks, Black girls are alive.
The power of our words match the rhythm of our feet, which bang on the doors of privilege with no retreat. Our hips swivel with a slight bass drop and our grin remains wide with no desire to stop. The richness of our skin that we pulled from our mothers produces a radiance like no other.
The shine of coconut oil, the crinkle of hair foil, the broken combs, the gelled back edges, the rows of braids, the long store waits, the always being late, the “bathroom breaks,” the “hold your ears,” and “Starvin like Marvin,” the family cookouts with your favorite auntie so polished and beautiful, man being black is quite inscrutable. Being black is fun. Being black is liberating and spontaneous for anyone. We all looked up to someone.
We’re strong and unapologetically Black. Our rhythm entrances some while our spirit captures a ton. We are a foundation of many things so great that we determine many others fates. A world full of hatred and yet we still rise. What can they throw at us next? Nothing of a significant surprise.
Your black is strong and beautiful and bold. Your black is courageous and daring and filled with stories you’ve never told. Your black is sassy in nature and passionate inside. Your black runs a country, without you it would die.