Because I was not white,

Because I was not pretty,

Because I was not a man, 

I had to write this poem. 

I thought maybe I could explain myself 

Better myself, implore myself 

But I ended up looking selfish.

We complain too much; the black woman's got it all handed to her

We don't have to worry about the racist-sexist dogma of society

We shouldn't have things like Essence or Ebony 

All we do is add to the layers of discrimination in America

And maybe that's true, but I entreat you, think:

Did you have to go to a different fountain when you wanted a drink? 

Did you look at your babies and wonder if they'd grow up

Bitter and forbidden,

Lost and uncertain? 

I had to write this poem because I am black

Because I am a woman.

I stopped and listened for a while, hoping I could find myself 

But I heard nothing because my ears were clogged.

"Stop, buy this!" "Get this!" "Do that!" 

All promising physical beauty and emotional well-being.

Can you imagine my anger at what I am constantly seeing? 

So I wrote this to purge my system,

And hopefully cleanse your mind as well.

Because I'm sick and tired of living in hell.