'Cause I'm a Bad Woman; I'm Not Afraid to Show It

I live in a land that is still ridden with a 400 year old institution called Slavery. I live in a land of ignorance, homophobia, and unacceptance. And in this land, I live my life looking and acting the way I do.

My breasts are average at 36C. My waist is small at 29 inches compared to my 41 inch hips. I get hollered at whether I am running along side the Mississippi or shopping for tampons. But that is simply because my hips don't lie about my child-bearing potential.

But I am brown skinned (some would even say dark skinned) woman in a place that praises light skin and "mixed"/ biracial women. I had natural hair and rocked a fro' until I shaved my head and started sportin' a Caesar. Now I am "bald" in Memphis where my Black people celebrate weave, "Barbies" and Eurocentric standards of beauty that were never meant to those who stem from Afrika.

I speak well with an unintelligible dialect, unlike those around me. A child of Orange Mound and The Hood, I did not let my surroundings of circumstances define me. Now I am unique because I "talk white." It has become a part of what makes my special.

I remain childless, single, well-spoken, educated, and a future service woman when those around me are having children out of wed lock, dropping out of school, and going from man to man, subconsciously searching for someone to fill the hole Daddy left.

But here I am: bold, eccentric, and beautifully human in a place that upholds none of who I am. I am proud of myself. I am proud of my brown skin and lack of hair. I am proud I know Who I Am in a time when others don't. I know many will not even look my way because of who God called me to be, but I don't need them because I am confident in myself. I love my big hips that sing a song, my large forehead catches the eye, shaved head that shows my confidence, busy lifestyle and natural beauty that does not need enhancement, and my brown skin that hails West Afrika and none of Massa.

My kind is not popular and I don't give a damn. I truly love me. I know I am exquisite, flaws and all. And yet I still accept criticism. I love my body and the muscle tone that is slowly showing through exercise. I love my quirky personality and stubbornness, my thirst for knowledge and resilience. I love ME.

So even when I run across someone who does not enjoy me for who I am, I know the issue is with that person and their own internal battles. And I have come across a certain someone that stands out in my mind who has an issue with self hatred and only seriously dates light skinned, "good-haired" women. But that is because he basically wants his future children to pass the Paper Bag and Hair Grade Test. Bless his poor Toby soul. But even in all that, I am still someone that he is drawn to time and time again. It just can't be helped:)

I am proud of myself and how far I have come. I was a mess before. It's been a long time coming and I am not done yet. But I look at other women and see their lack of confidence, dependence on weave and outer physical enhancements and I am not jealous. I pity them. And I celebrate me. I'm not cocky, but giving praise where praise is due. I thank God for my confidence:)

~*Pie*