If I could play an instrument and write a tune, I would pull from the ancestors: my grandmothers twisted fists, my mothers tears of self hatred, my aunts' heartbreak of lost loves, blackened eyes, cries....loud cries of birthing the next breed of little black girls. This tune would be called,
"Black Girl Blues".
I'm sure you have your own song, your own little diddy to write. If you're a black girl, you have a song that's familiar to every other black girl. Our song starts off with hope. All we know is, we are here and we are to be loved and to be kissed by the Sun. We want to dance to the vibrations of our hearts and souls. We are little goddesses. We are here......
This knowing, this birthright....changes. Our tune.....changes. Our natural sassy ways are sexualized. We are told we are being "fast" when we are just being girls. We are just mimicking our mommas, aunts, and Big mommas too. We want to be like them. We watch them. We say, "We are you". We say, 'this is me'. But told, no, no...don't be like Big momma. Don't have too much sassy. Don't be a little black girl.
We grow. We grow. As momma tells us not to be so sassy, Uncle Tommy notices. Uncle Tommy tells us he noticed the switch in our ass.He says we too pretty to be his niece. He tells us that we can be as sassy as we wanna be especially for a fee....maybe some candy or maybe Uncle Tommy will take you to your favorite store...for a fee. Little black girl with too much sassy in your ass, let Uncle Tommy have his way. Let him make you into...a little black girl...confused by love, confused by touch, confused by trust. Momma said you lied about Uncle Tommy cuz you got too much sassy in your ass. Don't be a little black girl.
Where is the love? Where is the love? Love....the love I received when my face first met creation. The love when I received a smile and a gentle kiss from my mother's tender lips, where can it be? I begin to seek a new definition of me, outside of what I feel I should be. My God, my Yah has said, "Let her be"....Let her be chocolate with tightly curled hair THEY would call nappy. Let her have beautifully made thick lips and a wide nose designed to take in the air of life. Let her be made in my image. Let her be. Let her be. So here I be but where am I? I look around to have this world to help to define who I am and I don't see me. Something called a kardashian mimicking what Yah has said is the beginning of all women, an African creation. I see lil kims and a minaj longing to be a doll made by Matel. Should this be me? Is this what a little black girl should become? Blued eyed beauty? Just by its name....relaxer...says my hair is too stressed....not right. Call me Barbie. Not Foxy Brown or Cleopatra Jones. Don't call me Makeda, Queen of Sheba. Let me believe that my beauty is secondary. Keep me hidden. Don't let the world know there is more of me, than of Barbie. Little black girl, you are black and you are a girl. You have too much sassy. Don't be a little black girl.
Seek and you shall find. I look for Love. JESUS. The pastor says, JESUS will help me find my way. He will get rid of the sassy. He will wash away the evil in my soul that spoke the language of an uncle's weakness. He said Auntie just wasn't satisfying his needs. Pastor says, JESUS will take it away. JESUS will provide. JESUS will send LOVE. No need to seek love from your momma black girl. You don't need no friends. JESUS is all you need. Pastor says so. Pastor says I will find LOVE here. I will find a good CHRISTIAN MAN if I just be a good little black girl and let JESUS take care of me. Because of pain, I see LOVE in any man that says more than 3 Hallelujahs and calls himself Deacon. "Do you go to bible study?", I ask. If I love you in the Lawd, I can LOVE you with my body and JESUS will take the sin away. The CHURCH will save this little black girl from the evil world. I will find LOVE here. My sassy ways can be washed away with the blood of JESUS. No more sinful sassy. Don't be a little black girl.
In the church, I've learned more about my inner song. I've learned to hum a new tune. My LOVE continues to be between my thighs it seems but no more giving away my spirit to find something I had at my birth. I will focus on me. This little black girl will become educated. I will focus on my life. I will be all that I can be and should be. Career. Education. I am woman. Degrees. Degrees. Degrees. Look at me now. I am the American dream. Own my home. Make the money. Career is all mine. mine. mine. mine. My sassy ways turn bitter has a tortoise shell. Its my protection. Its my guard. Its a good thing I say and I pray. Its a good thing I say and I pray. Its a good thing I say and I pray. Right? As the tortoise dies, the shell remains, hollow and alone. I've wanted love. I've sought it from blood, my family, the blood of JESUS...I don't want no more blood. No more hurt. No more pain. My single hood is examined, criticized and I'm blamed. I am too sassy. I'm too educated. I'm too focused. Why be you? Your sassy ways are the reason why there are little black boys locked behind bars. Remember, you are the first teacher. You were too busy being perfect. You forgot about the little black boys. Don't be a little black girl.
The blues are in my soul. I write a new song daily as I rediscover that little black girl who only knew the Creators love, the Sun on her face. She has no need to be measured to lighter, whiter skin. Her power is that she lives and breathes daily rewriting her tune. Her blues isn't sad but real. Her sassy is a blade of grass. It is earth. She was chosen to give birth to the world. She was chosen to give birth to the Son of Man. She was chosen to give birth to white, yellow, red, and brown. Why wouldn't you all want to be a little black girl.
Be a little black girl.
Be a little black girl.
Be a little black girl.
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