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Tiffany Laure

Now What



Permanently stained on me

Like henna but far beyond the two-week limit

I’d say a tattoo but even those fade.

This is something much more relentless.

Uniting but punishing

Sometimes it dims but even the beautiful disease creates a work of art that still signifies the importance of your being.

But what am I?

The intersectionality within me

Creating a complex convergence of oppression

“Am I angry?”

I’m dainty.

I’m fragile.

I’m petite.

I’m a caretaker.

I’m a peacemaker.

I’m a woman.

But add Black to the list. I’m angry.

Now I’m aggressive.

Now I’m loud.

When my presence takes up space in a room, they want me to see it.

They want me to feel it.

It’s a Mad Black woman; a tale old as time.

So now I’m mad.

A society that doesn’t give a damn about anyone unless the 0’s on your check makes sense.

“Education is key” yet they keep the poor locked out.

I’m mad that I could be bought, beaten and bruised and the world feigns sleep.

I’m mad that even in my own home,

what’s always been known to me as my purest form of self and vulnerability.

that I could be bought, beaten and bruised

and the world feigns sleep.

It’s not that deep they say.

But neither was the knee on George Floyd’s neck 8 minutes and 14 seconds before his passing

What’s not deep to them is detrimental to us and it’s hard to even speak on it or its

“Move on”

“Let’s petition”

“We are allies.”

Well, I’ll lie my black ass behind dismantling the very system installed with me pushed back 12 feet from the start

A crawl race against those in a Benz

And add 1 more foot for the weak ass amendment that tricked us into thinking slavery was abolished.

Want to know why I’m mad?

I’m mad because the very black men that are trapped in the prison system are the same ones we need.

I’m mad because the same ones we need are also the ones we fight for

I’m mad because the ones we fight for don’t fight for us back.

And I’m mad because all of this separation and division is a large pool that stemmed from a trickle of water.

So, the next time you hear

“Angry black women”

Tell them we’re not angry

We’re pissed the fuck off!






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