Black Women

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Black Woman.
Forever silenced and
Passed off as crazy.

Black Woman.
According to society,
We don’t have the right to feel beautiful…

Black Woman.
Our beauty and our intelligence are unrecognisable.

Black Woman.
Forever focused on what we lack.
And never what we have.

Black Woman.
The world has denied us of our beauty and turned it into a multi billion dollar industry.

Black Woman.
Relaxer, Extentions, Perms and Skin lightening lotions.
Which have caused more harm than good.

Black Woman.
Stipped off her complexion, natural kink and hairline!
Need I say more?

Black Woman.
“Less black” is perceived more classy.
Media publications, are too scared to lose the “white standard of beauty”.

Black Woman.
Effortlessly disclose the origins of the hair they place above their own.
But unable to tell you the texture of their own hair.

Black Woman.
Expressing how they hate the feel of their own hair growing.
Like those natural curls are something to be ashamed of.

Black Woman.
Never taught to love themselves for who we are.
And Society?
Never taught to accept us for who we are.

Black Woman.
Taught to compete amongst each other.
And feel inferior to woman of other colours.
Too busy tearing each other down.
Not realizing how much stronger we are in numbers.

Black Woman.
It’s acceptable for white women to embrace their sexuality,
But God forbid a black women do the same, or else she’s a hoe.

Black Woman.
They have turned their back on us

See…
I am both Black and a woman, I get combination slurs thrown at me

I’m not just a Nigger or a bitch to people.I am both and they do not hesitate to tell me so.

I don’t get a break. Ever. I have to fight for my womanhood, my Blackness, my humanity daily.

I don’t get the “luxury” of choosing just one. I am both. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Now and forever

And you know what? I don’t want to choose. I’ll never choose. You can never force me to choose.

My Blackness and my womanhood are both equally important to me and I will fight for both of them until the day I die.

♥ Kamiz

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Catfish Penis

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Oh, you're just a litte kitty?

I was disgusted, betrayed & hurt.
I had been thirstier than a guy who never dodged thirst traps for obvious reasons. . .
I Should’ve known something was amis after he turned down head.
In all honesty, I wouldn’t even make fun of him if he told me upfront he had micropenis, but he tried fooling me. That’s why I was so pissed.
So I hopped out of the bed like he had grazed my skin with a red hot poker.
I wont lie,
I was torn between laughing and crying.
I kicked his ass out though.
Told him to NEVER hit my phone up again.
I laid in bed more confused than the hip hop community after the Grammys.  
I never thought about it like this,
But he catfished his penis.

♥ Kamiz

Dinner With My Pretty Friend

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She puts her heart on the table
And bares it all.
The good,
The bad,
And the painfully ugly.
She doesn’t hold a single thing back,
And honestly,
I wish she did.  
She almost makes me feel happy that I’m just ordinary and
Forever overlooked.
Behind the layer of her beautiful porcelain skin,
Lays a thousand insecurities crinkled on her so called flaws.
She stretches her barely responsive skin,
In attempt to display how “fat” she is.
She tells me that lately,
She has been relying on her tears for hydration.
She shared beauty tips which I found least expected.
I never would have guessed that shedding tears twice a day eventually keeps the sclera white as snow.
Or how a back hand from someone you love,
Plumps up the lips.

I’m finally seeing that beauty is not only about the ascetics,
But rather the pain that goes into it when nobody is watching.

I realise that I bit off a lot more than I could chew.
I sort of wanna cry now…
If I could just hold back the the waterfall for a little while longer.
In hopes of distracting myself,
My eyes begin to wonder,
Before the thought could even process,
I blurt out

“what’s that on your wrist”,

“oh nothing, just some feelings that wanted to escape my heart”

I hold her hand and gently whisper

“it doesn’t have to be abuse to feel like one”.

She speedily says

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry, he doesn’t beat me up”

I am intrigued by the way his presence flows through her insecurities.

I now see how pretend become her desperate emotion.

I can safely say,
Love,
When not done correctly,
Can easily flip from roses to thorns.

My curious mind refusing to stop,
I ask if the rose red colour down her neck were from “hickies”,

(I knew very well that they were from beatings)

Him throttling her like she’s some sort of Ducati in his extreme sport fantasy is way out of hand.

I can see how uncomfortable she’s getting,
she shakes her head and
Pulls her scarf higher.
She begins to cry

“don’t make me feel like my heart is falling out of my chest”

I was speechless.

For the first time,
I saw beyond her beauty,
I was exposed to more than just some skin and bones.

I could hear what her eyes were saying

“my body has kept me captive like a prisoner for many years”.

Words have never been my strongest point.
I just held her tightly, because that was all I could offer.

It’s just crazy how people would kill to be pretty, while she’d rather die than be beautiful.

We both barely touched our food,
I don’t even remember taking note of the waiter, yet alone making an order.
The bill lands on that table, “50/50?” I ask, and she simply replies “No, don’t worry about, I’ll use his card, it’s the least he could do for giving me all of these scars.”

♥ Kamiz