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Cherise Charleswell Poem
dousing your non-kinky hair
with peroxide in hopes of forming curly kinks
and without manipulation
the matted strands
finally intertwine
except your Peroxide Dreads
don’t resemble mind
limp and still slightly stringy
they fall lifelessly across your back
while mind grow thick
luxurious and healthy
thanks to my Afrikan genetic imprint
my crowing glory
comes forth naturally
Afrikan locs
coils as thick as rope
remain neat
rinsed in the essence of rose water
adorned with cowries shells, charms, and beads
wrapped in scarves and knits
these works of art
capture my attention when I walk along city streets
while Peroxide Dreads
unkempt
resembling
the intricate patterns found in cobwebs
simply pails in comparison
this obvious attempt at imitation
is truly unflattering.
I can not fault you
for wanting full bodied kinks
more melanin
or full and curvaceous lips
for if I didn’t posses them
I would also be envious
Peroxide Dreads
I understand your plight
wanting to belong
desperately trying to fit in
rejecting all that you deem as “white”
particularly “white privilege”
because it isn’t as culturally stimulating
because it lacks creativity
because it is artificial
stealing from Afrikan society since antiquity
so you go where the
negroes go
wear you hair like the negro
adorn red/gold/and green or red/black/and green
clothing and accessories
as if a wrist band is going to allow you to
understand what it means to be Black and living in a Eurocentric society
so you listen to negro music
hip hop
reggae
jazz
when ol’ school beats blare
from speakers
you display your skills
and begin to pop lock
and the negroes are supposed to hold their breath
be amazed and give you your props
you attend every reggae festival
with a pipe
and a Bob Marley t shirt
because to you
smoking weed
is the only thing
that reggae music is about
you are free to wear your hair
like the negro
go where the negro goes
but you have the freedom of
never being treated like a negro
in the face of oppression
your lack of melanin
becomes a benefit
you are free to cut off your Peroxide Dreads
and forego your collection of Marley tees
and then you can easily be ushered back into
mainstream society
you can just continue to
listen to that negro music
on the sly
besides if you ever change your mind
you can always adorn your disguise
and reach for that bottle of Peroxide
Copyright © Cherise Charleswell | Year Posted 2009
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Details |
Cherise Charleswell Poem
I guess that the revolution
was meant to take place between my
thighs
and below my waist
I guess that the revolution
expects me
to shorten my stride
and slow my pace
just so that I will always remain
a few steps behind you
submissive
subservient
you claim that this is some role
that I must fill
mother
nurturer
while you
you are the
warrior
I can not be multi-dimensional
I have to remain weak
while you exhibit strength
how can women be meek
and have the ability to bring forth life?
Our bodies have the capacity
to house and nourish another entity
while you have the audacity
to believe that man
is superiority to me
why would you now believe that
you are stronger
you are smarter
than I?
Even the most simplistic
hunter & gatherers
understood the true value of their women
the men may go out and hunt
sometimes returning empty-handed
sometimes returning without enough meat
the women’s work of gathering
ensured that there would always be something to eat
the spark of civilization was lit by feminine energy
when people are not left to go hungry
they have the energy to be productive
the ability to build empires
the ability to create new technologies
the chance to develop the arts
and express their creativity
Just do not expect me to birth
the babies of the revolution
if you are unwilling to help rear them
do not expect me to lift you up
by allowing you to stand on my shoulders
do not ask me to listen to your stories of pain, struggle, and hurt
and expect me to act like I do not have my own
I'm tired of being told
that my actions or views
are emasculating
we women have always exist
we are damned if we do
and damned if we don’t
fix your lips to say that we are too independent
and call us gold-diggers and materialistic
in the next breath
so which is it?
would you prefer If I keep my hands in
your or my pocket?
See—I demand that an adult male act like a man.
I see too many women spending their time
trying to raise and nurture overgrown boys
stroking their egos
right along with their dicks
ignoring their worth
and surrendering their bodies and spirits
Look
I know my role
It is not behind you
It is beside you
I am not a toy
I am not a parrot
I am not a dog or horse
that needs to be trained in obedience
We are counterparts
yin and yang
opposite poles
I understand that a relationship
between a woman and man
relies on balance
and mutual respect
Now, I ‘m waiting for you
to take hold
and grasp
this fact
Copyright © Cherise Charleswell | Year Posted 2009
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