Quiet

. . .So he said to her "you’re quiet for a black girl". And she didn't say
anything. And I wanted to produce words to protect her but the tiger
in my throat stopped me. The tiger pulled the "you should be ashamed
of yourself" out of me. So I tried to yell "get out of me" but you are
the reason this country still has a melanin problem. You are the
guideline, the baseline, the core of our syllabus; you are the white
turbulence every car in America runs on. Being white in America means never felling like you skin the wrong color. I can see
her starting the feel the bitterness between her fingertips. I can see
her starting to feel the paleness on her face. The paleness, the
frailness of her emotions, the sound of the staleness, emotionless
response on her face. Your oxidation produces your outer beauty. Your outer beauty does no harm. Your outer beauty does no harm. The stairs of others shine on her skin over the sun; her beauty is shadowed over
her pigmentation. This creation, the combination to coordinate her
smile is locked away with an aspirational formulation. The suffocation of
her voice is silenced by society's own terms of beauty. And I know she
sometimes wishes she could have a transformation, a vindication of her
own skin. Her skin is preyed upon by vultures hiding behind school
uniforms. Because her tangibility, her nobility is hiding away. Scared
of either acceptability or invisibility. And too many black girls cut
themselves because this country sees them only as what not to be.
Because she still feels, and they still live in a country that has
fought so hard to get them out. When they call you a slave, tell them
how Harriet Tubman always had two chickens tied to her waist, so if
any white man tried to capture her she could push them away with her
wings and fly away. And when they call you weak tell them about how
Ella Baker never stood down from her male counterparts. And when they
call you dumb, tell them how the light in the lightbulb was actually invented by a
dark man named Lewis Latimer. See, even darkness can bright up the
world. And when they tell you that your words don't matter, tell them
about Mary Prince. The first black women ever to be published. These
names have been forgotten, but you can remember them now. Always be
strong with your words. Defend yourself like Ida B.Wells. Because you
are strong, you are powerful, and never, ever let them take that away
from you...