By: Osage Dior
Truth. It hurts like fire being spit in your eye. It bleeds like a wound that doesn’t want to heal. I have seen this situation before, I am the sacrifice. The Joan of Arc, the one who is suppose to be tied and burnt for taking a stand for what I believe in at all times. I believe in truth.
Excuse Me Sir…
Your distorted image of me does not faze me, I am a lover of my black culture and though you want to put me in a box with the rest of the “black women” you know, fine! However, I cannot run, nor will I hide from you…Jesus was killed due to his own disciples…Malcom X followed Islam, but as soon he became conscious of something deviant-he could not spread that radical message…Trigger one. Trigger two. Trigger three.
Truth. It hurts like fire being spit in your eye. It bleeds like a wound that doesn’t want to heal. I have seen this situation before, I am the sacrifice. The Joan of Arc, the one who is suppose to be tied and burnt for taking a stand for what I believe in at all times. I believe in truth.
Excuse Me Sir…
Your distorted image of me does not faze me, I am a lover of my black culture and though you want to put me in a box with the rest of the “black women” you know, fine! However, I cannot run, nor will I hide from you…Jesus was killed due to his own disciples…Malcom X followed Islam, but as soon he became conscious of something deviant-he could not spread that radical message…Trigger one. Trigger two. Trigger three.
Boom!
I have been called a lot of things, and yet I won’t deny that your words sting…But I must remember that it is not about me…I am being called to do something greater…I am a vessel of change, though you may not like my packaging. I am here to remind you of the strength of a woman when Sojourner Truth spoke at the Women’s Convention. I am here to show you why the honey bees swarm around me phenomenally-Maya Angelou…No, I don’t have a Bentley…No, I don’t have a mansion…No, I don’t go on shopping sprees at Tiffany’s…Diamond…love and bling-blinging…I have a love for the African people that gets me up at night…Makes me want to create wings on my back to fly away to a place…where your complexion is authorized not criticized…
Ancestral Blood Weapons…
I am a walker with a well of water on my head, no bucket…In my fingers are the intricate codes that braid the universal love that causes one to throw up the bald fist in the Olympics…I am the coy cat you kick in the stomach only for you to be found bleeding in the streets after I have grown my lioness nails and scratched your lack of understanding of who you are…
Cause I Know Who I Am!
Remove the veil…It is time to show and tell and see that Black is Beauty and Ghetto is not a word that should be used to uplift your identity crisis…You are not white…caucausian…half black and asian…and until you truly accept who you are-you will never understand why I love my black people…why I go to the Third Ward every weekend to get a spiritual rejuvenation that can only come from a conscious neighborhood fighting gentrification…Until you stop looking outside of yourself for gratification…and holding on to your own image of success instead of the picket fence white dreams and lollipop dancers in sunscreen…
The Haunting…
I will always remind you…and I will always be your enemy-because I am black…and I am proud to BE! And you can call me Queen B(itch), but despite the use of the derogatory word you use to describe me…I Am Queen…And my minions are lyrical words that will attack even family if you are unconsciously destroying the black community… ©NEEMA
I have been called a lot of things, and yet I won’t deny that your words sting…But I must remember that it is not about me…I am being called to do something greater…I am a vessel of change, though you may not like my packaging. I am here to remind you of the strength of a woman when Sojourner Truth spoke at the Women’s Convention. I am here to show you why the honey bees swarm around me phenomenally-Maya Angelou…No, I don’t have a Bentley…No, I don’t have a mansion…No, I don’t go on shopping sprees at Tiffany’s…Diamond…love and bling-blinging…I have a love for the African people that gets me up at night…Makes me want to create wings on my back to fly away to a place…where your complexion is authorized not criticized…
Ancestral Blood Weapons…
I am a walker with a well of water on my head, no bucket…In my fingers are the intricate codes that braid the universal love that causes one to throw up the bald fist in the Olympics…I am the coy cat you kick in the stomach only for you to be found bleeding in the streets after I have grown my lioness nails and scratched your lack of understanding of who you are…
Cause I Know Who I Am!
Remove the veil…It is time to show and tell and see that Black is Beauty and Ghetto is not a word that should be used to uplift your identity crisis…You are not white…caucausian…half black and asian…and until you truly accept who you are-you will never understand why I love my black people…why I go to the Third Ward every weekend to get a spiritual rejuvenation that can only come from a conscious neighborhood fighting gentrification…Until you stop looking outside of yourself for gratification…and holding on to your own image of success instead of the picket fence white dreams and lollipop dancers in sunscreen…
The Haunting…
I will always remind you…and I will always be your enemy-because I am black…and I am proud to BE! And you can call me Queen B(itch), but despite the use of the derogatory word you use to describe me…I Am Queen…And my minions are lyrical words that will attack even family if you are unconsciously destroying the black community… ©NEEMA
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