Melanin Love

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I love being a Black woman.

Mother’s of the Earth we are.

Our tight, kinky curls shine brightly in the sunlight.

While sweat lightly kisses our blue-black skin.

We turn our palms heavenward and thank God for the air in our lungs, the smile on our faces, and the sway of our hips.

We birthed a nation of kings and queens between our thighs.

Pushed out Presidents, champions, athletes.

Doctors, lawyers, and activists suckled at our breasts.

We were arrayed in shades as varied as the rainbow.

We sat between our mother’s legs while she braided our hair and told us how beautiful we are.

And we are.

We are.

We.

Are.

 

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One thought on “Melanin Love

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  1. You’re so right. Half my families got African blood, half French, i see every day the strength and beauty in the African genes, thicker, healthier skin, better tone, more asthetically beautiful and a rich inner talent and intellect. I think since we all come from Africa, black people must be purer and therefore have less flaws like ageing thin skin and no muscle tone. No wonder many black people like Blair Underwood age hardly at all. I wish almost every day I’d got the black gene over the white.

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