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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

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