Very Black Hair, a poem by Jean M. Hodges

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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