Life of a black girl

How can you love me but not at the same time?

How can you love the creation but not the creator?

You fetishize over my men, but yet are disgusted over me.

That's the life of a black girl.

It's constantly fighting for the people who doesn't give a damn about you.

It's walking and seeing a fine young sir, but can't approach him because you

wonder if he likes black girls.

It's sitting in the mirror and having the constant reminders of what people have

engrained in your mental for as long as you can remember, " you're too black."

" Your hair is nappy."

" You're not light enough."

Life of a black girl.

It's constantly being looked at because of the ride of our hips,

and the devlopment of our breast.

It's being called "fast" because of the way our face compliments our body.

It's getting the unwanted attention from men because " you look old enough."

It's being fetishized by your white colleagues, its having hands in your curls,

it's having to hold your tongue and not express human feelins because you

don't want to become the " angry black girl."

It's not being able to speak on issues that concern you because you don't want to be 

labeled as " passionate", or someone who can't hold a conversation, or the girl who

takes everything serious.

It's hiding who you are from the world, because while the world loves your culture,

they hate you.

It's having your crown ripped off your head by some girl who wears the same cornrows

as you but yet, you're ratchet, and she's expressing a new style.

Life of a Black Girl.

This poem is about: 
My family
My community

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