My Black is . . .
Updated: Jan 31, 2021
Chocolaty or caramel,
maybe mixed with vanilla; skin like buttercream.
Crowned in glory, thick & luscious; see, my hair is such a diva.
It glows with every ounce of love, yet with a mind of its own.
My clothes also speak, and can shut it down when I walk in
My Ankara[i] lights up the room, and my Ileke[ii] reminds you that I am royalty;
I told you, my clothes have a language. A language you recognize when you see me
The sound of the Gungun[iii]; my drum talks, it speaks a language your body responds to
& I am a life of the party because my dance attracts you.
You want to learn it, and can see my face expand with joy as I teach you
... and when I am in love, my language describes feelings words can’t explain;
it allows you to go into the depths of your highs, and bury yourself in its goodness,
My caramel skin, maybe it’s chocolaty, maybe it’s mixed with vanilla;
It is part of my identity; It is part of who I am.
Abi Tobi