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Look at my face Look at This Face I know her These thin lips Small eyes Large cheeks My eyelashes are short But long enough for their purpose
Dear White Women, Unkempt, dirty, and strange are three words you’re likely to hear when someone is talking about black hair. Or, instead of talking someone goes straight to walking their hand in it because of its arrogant flare…
Who are you To criticize her And wear her clothes To make fun of her culture But look in the mirror And say "it looks good on me" And wear it the next day, just because you can.
All my life I had to fight All my life I had to fight I fought My family The people I thought were my friends Even that fool down the street
Promised Land it was midnight on a windswept friday, early july, when i realized that my entire nation was a hand-me-down, a last-minute
they say that adaptation in its prime is simply assimilation or admiration . but I see things as they are and not for how they will be and what this is, what they are-- is damnation.
Being black is amazing Hair waving, body banging, and never aging. Everybody wants to be you, until it's time to be you Who knew?
Listen, I tell the tale Of my pain Of their pain Do you hear them? The collective despair Shared by every woman who is forced To witness their culture stripped Only to be sold
If you appreciate my culture, As much as you claim, You should know Your disgusting Urban Outfitter’s shirt Desecrates My God’s name. A sacred image Against
It used to be a medium Black culture could disseminate Preaching bout the muzzle, the struggle, and the abundant hate Always keepin the guard up in case the police might show up