The Psychology of a Black Woman
Similar to a Blackbird except there doesn’t seem to be a term for me anymore
Like this world’s denial of my history and its insistence on progression has filled all the space
Including the small corner where I once sought comfort
It was familiar
At least there they knew what to call me
And I knew what to expect
But this part?
This part
When we pretend that we all stand for the same thing on January 20th
When #timesup ignores the Whiteness that fueled this step
My familiar corner becomes
It is taken away
It is no longer mine
Because now it is theirs
Like so many of the things that have provided me with comfort
I dare not ask for help with replacing what I have lost
Who I have lost
They say I’m poised
Strong
Independent
I feel everything
Inside and out
I feel everything
The weight I carry is not mine alone
It is his
Hers
Yours
I raise my voice to reveal my pain
My joy
When I cry you look away
My smile receives no reciprocity
And my anger is expected
Queen Media Collective 