From the moment I came into this world,
I was taught that I was beautiful.
That I was worth something.
My skin, glimmered softly in the morning sun,
and in the light, it shone like a streetlamp.
When I was 5, as I sat in my room,
and as my mother began to braid my nappy afro,
she said that my black was beautiful.
As I grew, and grew, and grew
I learned to love my shade each day.
Strutting down the halls of school with my head held high
and my hands on my hips.
I am bold,
I am confident,
I am beautiful.
People come by, and ask me what I am
They ask me if I am pale, and if my black is really true.
But I don't need to answer their foolish questions,
for I already know who I am.
I am a dreamer.
I am like the sun that rises to the top of the sky each day.
I am like the lion king laying on the rock in the savannah.
I am Black, and my black is beautiful.
White,
Latino and Latina,
Asian,
your skin is beautiful.
When we all stand together,
we look like a beautiful collage.
To all my sisters,
look towards the sky
and let the light reflect upon you,
look in the river and examine your worth, your beauty.
For all black is beautiful.
HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH!
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Hi Dove, I know you said you’ve left the site, but I still wanted to take a look at your poem :hug:
I like how you have the bold sentence right in the middle of the poem. It nicely sections it off between the early life, where everything was simpler and you don’t have to justify anything to the questioning part of the poem, where there’s ppl coming up to you to tell you a different thing to believe abt yourself.
I find these lines especially powerful:
Thank you so much for sharing!
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Sorry I didn’t get to this in time for BHM! But then, every month is a Black history month.
First thing is that you don’t need a comma between skin and glimmered in the fourth line. If you do want one for flow, you’re looking at phrasing the line as “My skin, glimmering softly in the morning sun,/shining like a street lamp in the light.” Your call on which way you want to go.
I like that there’s only one line devoted to the narrator’s racial ambiguity. There isn’t a focus, and if you were reading without care you might miss altogether that they can be mistaken for something other than Black. It gives this line of questioning the attention it deserves. Not much.
Since you’re addressing sisters in this poem anyway I might shy away from using the “lion king” phrasing as it’s very attached to a Disney film and “the lion/lioness laying on the rock” or something would work just as well IMO, but I am white so who knows.
It’s always a little awkward when someone starts listing racial categories, because there are an awful lot of them. What of the indigenous communities of the Americas, Australasia and elsewhere? i might excise the list of races other than Black and just replace it all with “All people,/your skin is beautiful.” which is what you’re really trying to convey anyway.
The collage metaphor is really nice.
Great poem overall.
Lovely confident impactful piece! Loved the read - enjoyed the sentimental imagery of a mother working on her daughter's hair - a beautiful moment that folds into the rest of the poem's message. Thank you for sharing!
thank u!
its very, very sweet to make a bhm poem! from one black folk to another, happy black history month to you as well <3
thank youuu!