I was born with very black hair
I used to worry that I would wear it out
Because only clowns wear colorful afros
And braids don’t hurt that much if you don’t keep them on your mind for too long
Ugh, what if all came out too long?
How many hours would I spend calming it down?
Why do we always have to come out so loud and brown?
Locs as long and curly as tumbleweeds
Not pale and smooth like the waterfalls people tend to fawn over
What happens if it fawns over?
Crinkles like a shape of paper and glue?
Does the diversity of shapes confuse you too?
It that why you want to touch it, to check it’s real?
I was born with black hair
And it is very real
I keep it however I want
Because I like it, in spite of it
And it’s all mine.
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Hey, Jean.
This was a very deep and emotional poem. I can feel the insecuty of the person in the poem. This shows that no matter what skin color, ethnicity, or size, we all need to be happy with who we are.
Thanks for writing this poetry. Keep it up!
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Beautiful, descriptive and evocative piece of writing. Thank you!
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