Black history month is ending so I wrote this little poem a few weeks ago and decided I would share it.  And although Black history month will be over, that doesn't mean you can't celebrate it all year round....Everyone should take pride in their own culture whenever they can, not just one month out of the year. :D

There's no sensitive words in this poem but obviously it focuses around racial discrimination and things of that nature. I was actually inspired to write this after I read an article about how hard it is for black women to become professional ballerinas soooo yeah. :) 

Picture is by Jun-OH at Deviant Art :

http://jun-oh.deviantart.com/art/Btfl-speed-342703037?q=favby%3Alittlesims2chick%2F63346946&qo=7

I'm a beautiful black woman and I know I am.

Society may have a different opinion but I honestly don't give a damn.

I Grace the stage I worked hard to even be able to walk on yet you act like I don't belong there....I watch as I'm greeted with penetrating evil stares.

Perhaps it's the broad and round curve of my lips, or maybe it's the silhouette of my hips.

Or maybe it's because my nose is slightly wider than the other women.

Or it could be my kinky, coily, curly, "wild" hair.

***

You see....This industry is destructive to women in general but for a black woman it's nearly 10x as worse.

It's like having a piece of tape over your mouth and having your hands tied to the back of a chair.

"Your hair, your hair, your lips, your lips, her nose, her feet, her hair. Ugh look at her! Look at her skin complexion!" 

The same people who say that will come from behind a door and smile in your face and say "I'm sorry sweetie but we've decided to go in a different creative direction"

STOP IT! SHUT UP! Can't you see that your words are destroying me and eating me alive like some kind of infection.

Your words are like poison to my soul, you're judging me based on things that I can't even control.

There's only one thing I can ask but I don't actually say it....Why do you hate me?

What does my hair have to do with my technique? My hair is what makes me unique...Yet you make it seem like I'm some kind of a freak.

Maybe it's me, maybe they're right...I'll never be white but...Maybe I should hide my natural hair and get a weave

I mean if I get one, I'll finally fit into that creative vision that they're trying to achieve....

It was 12:05 am when I fell on my knees and I began to plead, I scratched my fingers so hard against my legs that I began to bleed...I let all their hate be planted inside of me like some sort of seed, and I never stopped it, I just allowed the hate to breed.

"Momma! I just wanna be a beautiful little ballerina, I wanna dance like the other little girls but it's like I'm trapped in a box! Momma! I'm stuck in my own little world...

And it hurts, so badly, I exercise, I'm flexible, I follow the technique, I can get a dance routine down pat for more than just 8-beats. Momma help me! Please!"

My mother said nothing, she just made me stand in front of a mirror. "Kamira, I don't know how I can make it anymore clearer,but you are a beautiful black ballerina"

***

I look down at my wide, broad feet on stage, as I make sure they're perfectly straight and the audience watches me.

I made it, even though they didn't want me to. I made it despite all of the horrible shit they put me through.

In a flash, I grab the scrunchie that is containing my "wild" hair, I rip it off and the audience stares, but I don't care.

I'm a woman, a beautiful black woman.
I may not be a white swan, but I'm a beautiful black swan.

My hair grows in coily, curly, kinky, and twisty spirals, it's been that way ever since I was a little child and that doesn't mean that I'm uncivilized or "wild."

It was that night when I looked society in the eyes and said fuck you without literally saying it.

They wanted a white ballerina on stage and, there was no way that I would waste my time portraying it.

This was me, I finally broke those God damn chains and I finally felt free.

I realized that true beauty was inside of me, and  I was only staring at the ugly face of society.