But how do I learn to love myself, in a society that calls my skin a sin

my hair unkempt and my place here a rent revoked if I spoke too loudly about the oppression following me in the fashion store.

Go back to Africa, where my ancestors were wrenched. from Islands and isles, forests and wilds, while men build legacies and yell out pleasantries like

can you swim, upstream? cause if you could there’s always a place here

How do I learn to love myself, when the aesthetic is thin, white skin, straight hair and I..don’t look like that

my barbie dolls attacked by my perceptions

confusion of the delusion that led to us perusing

the same shelves tonight

you say you want to understand the plight while fighting every mention of your privilege and right

given by a state that denied me my fight

called us hoodlums, and decimated our crowds

wowed, by the inspection of my genital space

clipping off clitorises and saying my race negates pain

we don’t feel it and yet she’s screaming in agony

probably faking but damn,that sound is aching and echoing and resonating for all to hear

but..have no fear

I can love myself now

as long as I don’t look outside and see

that I don’t exist.

-AmaRose