My Hair

I am not a slave to my looks therefore I am not a slave to my hair. 
Next time you say,


 You will never get a man with that hair.

Instead of running home to cry while smothering lipstick on my mouth, 
I will say:

Well these locks allow thirty minutes less in the bathroom which leaves more time for snuggling,

I can sweat and jump in the pool to wash off, and I don’t have to wear a plastic bag over my head when I’m kissing in the rain –

 My man will be so lucky.  

I am no longer a slave to the white man therefore I am not a slave to my hair. 
Next time you come up to me and tell me to fix it,
Instead of remaining speechless in perturbed confusion
I will say,

Well this is the way my hair is, 

I like it nappy, no leave it -

Let it alone no need for a comb - it’s supposed to be


He blessed me with dry roots so I can learn patience,

There is so little of it so I can know contentment.

No it’s ok; here lemme show you -
Underneath that wig is your gorgeous hair too.


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