Black WomanBlack women are like figs, not just any fig, my grandmama's figs. Every summer they would be so warm and plump and sweet. Wanna see a black woman in all her glory? Catch her at the beginning of the summertime, skin moisturized, and melanin poppin. Piss a black woman off and she'll turn sour, wondering why you're nauseous. Maya Angelou said it best, we rise. Against the fists and words and violence, damn you and your glass ceiling! We out here! The most educated demographic, it's us. Why do you think ships, guns, planes, cars are all called she? Cuz she is we, and we are more powerful than those misogynistic eyes can see. Got the future of the whole world resting in between our thighs, casually. It's called #blackgirlmagic because even as the most oppressed people in America we still shine. Unapologetically. ~ For your ears:
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AnxietyThat feeling in the pit of your stomach, when you're nervous. Ice chips embedded into every nerve and vein. The butterflies who promised to stay in your stomach migrate to your heart, persuading it to beat faster than it should. My shoulders and neck stay sore from the stress of living in a chaotically social world. On top of the butterflies and ice is the nausea and sweat and dizziness. Nausea. Sweat. Dizziness. I'm standing in the living room in front of my parents holding my father's open bible. Trying to get out the words, the ones that are supposed to heal me, take away the butterflies and ice. I had done something wrong but I don't remember what it was. I'm nauseous, dizzy, my vision going in and out. I'm being yelled out. I don't remember why. Then the vomit comes. I swear God, I promise it was an accident. I didn't mean to spill my breakfast on the words of your only begotten son, but it's not helping. I'm running to the bathroom, right across the foyer. Maybe 15 steps. I don't remember if I made it. Nausea. Sweat. Dizziness. Learning to control the monster in my stomach is one of the hardest skills I've ever had to learn. Breathing in through my nose, out through my mouth. "You're okay. You're fine. I'm okay. I'm fine." When it was angry it didn't matter where I was - restaurants, airports, school - He would make his presence known. Throwing all the things I had worked so hard to place inside, no matter how much or how little, all of it ended up outside of me. On the floor, on the table, on those around me, on myself. It is hard to be embarrassed by simple things when I spent too much of my childhood crying into public toilets and apologizing to strangers for the mess. Apologizing to my parents for being a mess. I wasn't told the origin of the monster until too many years later. I could finally give him a name and it starts with an A. If I knew then what I know now, would I be further along? ~ Song of the Day:[Text from A] Hey it's me 👋 I just thought I'd let you know that you're getting on everyone's nerves Yes even him who said he loved all your questions and quirks Yes, especially her who has proven to be your ride or die. Don't worry, I'm sure it's nothing you did Except for all the times you've cancelled plans because you couldn't get out of bed Oh yeah, and that time you went out with them and then sat in the corner the whole time OR the time you were so nervous so you drank too much and embarrassed yourself If you met someone like you would you love them? I mean really love them? I'm sure you would, you're a good person. But If you're such a good person why do bad things keep happening to you? Why do things like this keep happening to you? I mean sure, that one time you were drunk The other time you invited him in though, When you were a kid how could you have stopped that? You were the one wearing a dress... I guess this time is different... but what if it's just you? What if you are just permanently broken? ~ Song of the Day:People always used to call me a bird. A cute little bird “You eat like a bird.” When I picked at my food or only ate a plate full of hors d’œuvres vegetables, you know, raw broccoli and celery and cherry tomatoes. "You're so small like a bird." Because I wasn't obese like my cousins, my thin frame standing out in the forced family photos. My grandmother used to call me a bird when I was younger because of the way I walked on my tip toes when I first woke up. Every-time I woke up I would walk on my toes until I was fully awake. It always takes me a long time to wake up. Like my body is fighting a weight that pushes me back into bed. No matter how early or late it is it always takes me 30 minutes or more to fully awaken. Walking on my toes felt like stretching. I like stretching, it feels like refreshing, like a computer. People have always called me a bird. The kids at school compared me to the less graceful ones like ducks and the long necked ones like cranes. Family members called me soft like canaries or beautiful like swans. Always a bird, but never the strong ones that hunt other birds or the ones as big as toddlers. I was always Maya Angelou’s bird, the kind you can cage. Not like Tweety either, Tweety was badass. Always the cute little birds who sung in the morning and would pop onto your finger and chirp whenever company was over. They don’t call me a bird anymore. Now eating like a bird is connected to my anxiety. Standing on my toes as I wait for my body to fully awaken is lazy. Speaking softly is met with, "HUH? Speak up so we can hear you!" Now those things aren’t cute because I’m 20and am supposed to have my shit together all the time. Because Jade isn’t supposed to be a child anymore. I’m not a child anymore but I’m still Me. ~ Song of the Day: Hot concrete burns my size 6 feet as I brace myself to race my brother through the sprinklers. My aunt, only 13 years older than me, my big sister really, sits in the garage listening to Top 40 babysitting us while her parents – my grandparents – are at work. It’s sometime in July and my brother and I are spending our yearly month with our grandparents in Killeen, Tx. We spent those days making mudpies and eating watermelon and watching BET (with my aunt sister) and helping my grandmother with her garden. I never found it weird that my aunt still lived at home. At four years old I would ride from school marveling at how big her school was compared to mine. Sometimes her boyfriend would join us for dinner, Uncle TJ. I don’t know where he is today. She used to teach me the latest dances, her mini-me, me, swinging my baby hips to Destiny’s Child, my toes dug into the blue carpet for support. My mother always laughed and scolded my aunt (her little sister-in-law) for spending her summer teaching me to be “too grown”, I didn’t understand at the time. Now at 33 and 20 my aunt is still teaching me to be too grown. When we’re back at my grandparent’s house we still sneak away to Mickey’s Corner Store to get honey buns soft and warmed from the lack of air conditioning and Twizzlers, her favorite candy, that she only shares with me. Song of the DayChange is constantly uncomfortable. There's no easy way around it, I've tried. The whole point of it is to break you, grow you, make you stronger. It is pushing, pushing, pushing for more. When I was a child I was devastatingly shy. To the point of nausea and tears. Over the years my mom pushed me to be more. "Here read this scripture for everyone." she'd say at our neighborhood bible study. "You're going to go play on the YMCA basketball team." she'd say as she nudged me out the door. After a time of being "volun-told" to do things and seeing the lesson in them, I began volun-telling myself to do things. "Raise your hand. You know the answer." I'd think in class. "Try out for the track team, you know you're a good athlete." I'd say as I laced up my sneakers. I had found a steady confidence in myself. It got to the point where I was running for class president, and winning! I learned that trying and pushing and jumping to grow and change was beneficial to my health, mentally and spiritually. Life is back breaking it is more than hard it is a constant tearing, if you are trying to grow. ∽ Song of the Day |
J. SeymoneThis is the place for the public consumption of my poems, album reviews, and general thoughts. Archives
April 2019
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