White Skinned, Blonde Haired, Straight Haired
The curls on her head differentiated her
her white skinned, blonde haired, straight haired family.
Light eyes, white skin, blonde hair, straight hair.
Their eyes pierced at her making her feel uncomfortable in her own caramel skin.
She understood where she stood.
She felt the difference between them and her.
“Blood is thicker than water”, they say,
but the blood between her dark skinned father and her caramel skin was much thicker than her mothers white skinned, blonde haired, straight haired family.
You’d think as Dominicans they’d understand where they come from.
You’d think the inclusion and making her feel as an equal would be enough.
Caramel skin just didn’t fade away.
Umbrellas never helped her stay away from the sun to allow her skin to become compatible with their white skin.
Her brown hair won’t take away from the obvious blonde hair they have.
Her curly hair received stares as their straight hair made her uncomfortable with her own.
Dear Silk Scarf,
I wrap my curls every night before bed with you,
resting my head on my silk pillowcase
hoping you’ll keep my curls tucked in tonight.
Oh, silk scarf
how you understand the folds of every curl on my head.
You safely cuddle it as if you’ve known them for a long time.
Silk scarf, you sometimes upset me because you slip off my head at night while I get out of bed to use the bathroom late at night.
I know you feel contempt
from my white skinned, blonde haired, straight haired
grandmother who makes remarks about you.
Silk scarf you make me feel safe.
You understand me.
You make me love the part of me I wanted to run from
And deny since I was a little girl
Just to capture the image they all wanted me to.
Silk scarf, I wish there was more of your love on every little curly haired girls head.
I never thanked you for becoming part of me and my identity.
I hid my curls for so long under many blow dryers and flat irons to suppress who I truly am and it’s all because of you.
I wrapped you on my head for the first time and felt my place.
I felt where I belong.
Oh Silk Scarf, thank you for being the reason
my curls cuddles up with your folds
every night before bed.
You too have a story that no one talks about.
Thank you Silk Scarf.
Little Church Girl
Little church girl you don’t have to hide
Little church girl you don’t have to cry
Little church girl, you’re beautiful
They don’t see your scars for they are hidden on the inside
They don’t hear your cries, for they are silent at night
Little church girl you’ll someday grow up to be a strong women of God
Not many know your story, but they don’t have to for He already does
Little church girl He is your story
Wipe your tears
Keep walking soldier
Little church girl, you’ll grow up to teach others through your strength
Don’t give up
Little church girl you don’t have to hide for you are strong
Praise is hushed away with the wind
Prayer ends a Sunday Service
Cameras turn off
Mics are put away
Instruments are shut off
Worshippers come off the altar
She’s rushed off
Tension rises back up
“Did the Spirit move?”
“Did my voice crack”?
“Was it enough?”
“Did I fail?”
More anxious thoughts
The week passes by
The meeting starts
“Do I speak?”
“Did I sound okay?”
“I won’t speak again”
Anxiety overwhelms the mind
Anxiety taunts the mind as a bellowing tower waiting to collapse over
Anxiety is a constant battle she wants to overcome
Anxiety is only hushed away for a couple of minutes
Praise fills the room loudly
Sunday Service begins
Mics are grabbed
Instruments are turned back on
Worshippers flood to the altar
She trembles, but walks back on
Anxiety is hushed for a moment