THE ANGRY BLACK WOMAN

So much anger, ripe disdain, murderous rage, her loud. screaming. voice. The savagery that is the angry black woman narrative.

She must be conquered, she must be laid bare, her loins are possessed with evil desires and her womb is cursed to churn out, litters of black babies and the worst of all atrocities the monstrous black boy.

This narrative is more poisonously popular today than it was in the days of slavery, back then the black woman could be tamed by the gruesome beatings of the black man and raped into submission by her white master.

Then there were the Nanny of the Maroon's, the Rosa Parks, the Ella Baker's, the Angela Davis, the Audre Lorde's, the Assata Shakur's, the Diane Abbott's. 

No longer were we just a quite place to pour the rage and frustrations that is the emasculation of black men, nor were we just a warm wet hole to conquer by our white masters. We the Black women of this world have an elusive power, our resiliency, and a wisdom that echoes thru our children. We teach them to read, to dream, we have given birth to new generations and with that we gave them something that is surprisingly more powerful than others could have imagined... we have given our descendants hope.

I sit my daughter between my legs; legs that had been forcefully pried open by your patriarchy and white supremacy. I slowly part her hair, and gently rub in the oils of my fore-mothers as I tell her stories of Anansi the spider's cunning and Nanny's leadership, I sing her songs of freedom, and recite Miss Lou's poetry. I do it all: with a mothers touch, fierceness, love and solidarity.

Yes. I am angry, I am the angry Black Woman you speak of. 
I am passionate, I am strong,

 I have the power and the stillness of the side eye.

 I am a freedom fighter, I am a revolutionary leader,

 I wheel the powers and the pleasures of my own body. 

I am a visionary, 

A nurse, I am a mother, I birth nations of black souls 

and I equip them with the strength, wisdom, courage, 
and knowledge of their ancestors.

I am the embodiment of hope and change 

'cause betta mus com.

While you sleep

My great grandmother, my grandmother my mother and my daughter are all alive, a precious bio-fact like a jewel I hold so dear. But on nights like these when I watch my daughter sleep I cant help but think of the history of evil that has impacted our lives from slavery, rape, servitude and incest, all four generations of us are all survivors of some of the worst types of evil this world has to offer.

And then I look at her sleep, so delicately peaceful, and unaware that even as a fetus she was called a "mutt" by her white father's white coworker and friend. Then I remembered the 1st time she came home and explained that she wished she lived in Jamaica where people looked like her. And as I asked her to further explain her feelings, it all faded to black as my heart sank. I stood there motionless with every racist encounter I've had flashing thru my mind and body, triggered, angry and speechless.

I focused on her words as she explained her discomfort and her new acknowledgement of the racial divide in authority figures at her school. I remembered mumbling something about our city's history and the need for more diversity and the pace of change.
But really, how do I explain to a small child that as different as she feels she will not only experience a multitude of racist encounters, racist people, racist systems of white idolatry but will also be treated differently because of her light skin privilege? A privilege that must always be checked.

 For now I stand here over her bed watching her sleep, praying to my ancestors, the universe and my black god(dess) that she (my peacefully sleeping daughter) will be as fierce, as brave, as strong, as wise and even more resilient than the five generations of women who have all survived and are all alive, loving her and teaching her the best way we can.

*Image - Family Tree (Limited Edition Lithograph) - Keith Mallett