Both, Real Ones

You and I

It’s not only the melanin in my skin, nor the tight curls of my hair that make me a Black woman.

I’m a Black woman because I know what being a Black woman is. I am conscious about it.

I know the history of my ancestors. I know how much we’ve suffered and how much we still need to work in order to erase oppression.

I’m a Black woman because I assume my Blackness, I embrace it, and of course, I protect it.

The day I found myself in bed with a real Black man, I knew I was doing right in my life.

Let’s take some things apart.

It wasn’t that I slept with him that night. It was that I could read his mind. I could look further into his eyes.

No words at all — that single moment was enough. I made an effort and paid attention to what he said.

Every Black woman deserves a caring Black man.

The nicest smell of him, who claimed to be my real Black man and, as always, lips touching in two different ways. Stay quiet Ag.

From that point to the end of the line, I hope there’s no problem between you and me.

As I said, I knew I was doing right and he probably knew the same, because we both were and still are conscious of who we are.

I’m pretty sure, the day I’ll marry and love a man till my bones, he will be a Black man, a real one.

I’m a Black woman and he’s a Black man. Both, real ones.

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