I Know Why The Black Woman Screams
Trayvon Martin
Michael Brown
Tamir Rice
Gabriella Nevarez
Eric Garner
Freddie Gray
Michelle Cusseaux
Alton Sterling
Philando Castille
Botham Jean
Stephon Clark
Ahmaud Arbery
George Floyd
Bettie Jones
Breonna Taylor
These are just a few of the names you know about. Lives taken by those who “protect and serve”. Mind you, Jacob Blake may never walk again and we still don’t know what happened to Sandra Bland. And by the time these words make it across your screen, there could be several new names to talk about.
I know why the Black woman screams.
We feel lost in our own “home”.
The most disrespected, unprotected, and neglected people on the planet.
Yet we birth the very culture our oppressors colonize.
Does our joyfulness upset you?
Why let our brilliance kill your mood?
Is it ‘cause we dance like we've got hope for tomorrow
And W.A.P in our living rooms?
We know you’d love to see us broken,
High blood pressure and swollen eyes.
And yet we’re making money moves despite teardrops,
Cuz like a Kobe windmill, we rise.
I know why the Black woman screams.
We cradle our sons and whisper prayers that they’ll live long enough to have a spouse. One that prays they make it home every night instead of adding their picture to a t-shirt with clouds.
We attend meetings about our “sassy” daughters who “distract” other students with curly hair. We temper our demeanor to seem less confrontational, trapping ourselves between being not too much and more than capable.
Does our brazenness offend you?
Do new hairstyles catch you off guard?
Or is it ’cause we laugh like we’ve got heart-shaped herbs
Growin’ in our own backyard?
I know why the Black woman screams.
She craves respect and freedom.
The chance to be vulnerable and truly seen,
Instead of being called “strong”, like an indestructible machine.
Let freedom ring beyond the realms of our ancestor’s wildest dreams.
May it scream louder than their haggard voices and slighted pleas for peace.
May it clang loudly over the cowardice threats of white men who hide behind sheets.
May it creep within the walls of government and change the minds of those who lead.
May it chase the begrudgingly anxious thoughts of those who comply with silence.
May it shatter the famously ridiculous notion that America was ever great.
May it paint masterpieces within the minds of conformists who don’t see color.
May it drain the swamp of perpetual liars who insight fear through the media.
May it burn like a cross on the manicured lawns of those who question its power.
May it dismantle the designs of a myth called justice to create systems that uplift and heal.
Breaking the rules of this sick, twisted game,
We rise from a past that is rooted in pain.
Brown-skinned girls with smiles gleaming and wide,
Swaying our hips as our strut drips with pride.
Leaving behind allies who proved insincere,
We reclaim a future that is wondrously clear.
Using the gifts that our ancestors gave,
We choose to go high and not wallow in shame.
We rise.
We rise.
Like baby hairs without a bonnet, we rise.
