In the beginning there was void, and God’s spirit moved the water and said “light be”, and the sun was here just as you appeared after I spoke to your existence in a prayer, or was it a dream? And it was revealed to me how your kind came to be
The sun kissed the face of the earth and then they made the kind of love that we imagine when we speak of fire, passion, strength, all the qualities of a Black woman.
And who knows how long this love lasts, because this was before there was time and we didn’t have enough of it, when it couldn’t be wasted. When anything and everything was infinite, and so it’s of natural consequence that your beauty is endless, your heart is kindness, and your grace is timeless.
Your skin is the color of the Earth. Polished by hard rains and the glaring blaze of the land you once called home. Your mind swirls with the kindred love stories of Egypt and Nubia that we no longer tell. You are Isis and Oshun. A warrior and a lover in perfect harmony.
Your hands are incredibly versatile. They can gently wipe away the tears of a young black boy who just realized that society sees him as an enemy, and every day is a battle. They can also form tight fists as you look into your child’s eyes and tell him, “Baby, anyone who is after your life must go through me first. I rather die for you….I rather die for you then live in a world where I must bury you. Baby I will carry you. I will put prayer in you and hope there will never be despair in you. And I will teach you about love.
That is the love of a black woman. The same love showed to me by my mother, my sister, my grandmother, and every woman who had a hand in shaping me into a man. Not the man I am today, but the man I hope to become. Because they want far greater for me than what I currently possess.
But back to your beauty, the essence of your beauty cannot be captured in words. Your helium smile can lift my spirits when all the tragedies of the earth are weighing me down. Let me breathe you. Fill my lungs with the essence of you, and I will no longer need oxygen to survive! For it will be your spirit that replenishes me.
Or better yet, it will be the reflection of the Most High’s spirit in you. In your walk, in your talk, in the way your eyes light up when you see another brown skinned woman on the television screen. When I see the power in you, I recognize the power in Him, and I realize why 400 years of slavery could not destroy you.
You are a sunrise in a nation at war. Always on the front lines with your arms outstretched intercepting the bullets meant for you as well as those meant for us. You are a mother, a sister, a teacher, a lover without ever ceasing to be a fighter you are a queen. A queen whose kingdoms were written out of the history books, but live forever in your soul. Know that the blood of the creators of civilization course through your veins, and remember that royalty cannot be made to feel inferior.
So ladies be proud of your skin, for the magical melanin allows you to capture the sun as if it were a firefly. You glow when others burn. Be proud of your hair, however you choose to wear it, because Queen Nefertiti had hair like yours, and she was able to unite two African kingdoms, creating one of the most powerful empires to ever exist!
Know your history. Never relinquish your self-worth. You are precious and wonderfully made. And that’s beautiful.