Black women need to start a hashtag #icanbeboth where we post pictures of ourselves with degrees, at graduation, sitting in your office, being successful etc. along side pics of us partying, twerking, dancing, having fun as NORMAL HUMAN BEINGS DO.
Because this idea that you are either a hoe or a sophisticated woman is toxic as hell. It’s a racialized version of the virgin-whore dichotomy. I can be both a sexual being and an role model/educator at the same damn time.
The sun is out, but it doesn’t feel sunny. One dark lonely cloud lurks in the sky, foreshadowing an impending doom. Emotions in one day portraying a similar rhythm as a roller coaster.
Happiness in the mind seems only an outstretched arm away, but a violent clench of the fist and it vanishes.
The sympathetic looks of strangers causes an irrational anger.
The faces belong to friends but friendship was fabricated in a factory.
Nothing is reality.
Four walls, padded, a form of prison thought to help.
Things only get worse, as understanding as they are, they don’t understand.
That wasn’t the name given to you but it’s what they all call you.
What’s crazy is how these four walls resemble life more than they do the prison it’s meant to be.
No one truly knows what this word means.
Raise your hand if you’re straddling the line between crippling anxiety and not giving any fucks about anything
i could be a member of maroon 5 and none of you would ever know
But for some of us there’s only today. And the truth is, you never really know.