8th grade me

8^th grade was a downward spiral

Like the kinky curls that flow down my back

The curls that they pointed,

stared,

and gaped at.

While I sat at my lunch table minding my own

3 boys in my grade came over.

They asked me

How do you get a comb through that?

How do you get electrocuted,

and still come to school?

8^th grade me why didn’t you snap back?

Why didn’t you scoff and say,

"HA! I wear my afro like a symbol of me,

bold and beautiful,

the electricity running through me cannot be contained."

And the girls

They should be on your side, right?

Wrong

They asked me,

Why do you do it like that?

Why don’t you smooth it down?

Straighten it out,

Lay it flat,

Tame it!

8^th grade me why didn’t you speak up?

Why didn’t you giggle and say,

"My curls tell a story of me

and my Afro-originated ancestors

I am authentic,

I am me.

My locks will wrap around each other

like vines up and tree

and I am not ashamed.”

8^th grade me stand tall!

Let your hair represent the love you provide.

Let it grow stronger and thicker,

like the roots of a tree.

Flow steady like a winding river.

Don't let the kids get to you.

Let your light guide you.

Love what makes you unique,

beautiful,

and do it unapologetically.

8^th grade me, 

Love yourself.