Fragility Misogynistic men are more like glass than they’d ever care to admitSee through, fragile things whose broken shards will cut you,Spill your blood and lie in itLeaving them toBathe in your elixirLavishing in your agony
This essay about safe spaces (or lack thereof) is a reaction to a rather unpleasant experience I had at an open mic, and features a poem by the same title.
About a year and a half ago, I wrote a piece for my college’s only feminist publication ranting about the ways in which people police, invalidate, and deny the humanity of Black women when they reduce our feelings of frustration to mere unprecedented “anger.” At the time I was responding to an ex-coworker’s assertion thatContinue reading “Serena Williams Demands a Well-Deserved Apology”
When you have known only Blackness your whole lifeAs I haveWhen it has been written on your birth certificateCelebrated in your homeTaught in your classrooms—That long historyMarred by half a millennia ofTurmoil and trauma
I am sensitive to the silencersThe ones who shoot you dirty looksWhen your laugh is too big for the roomOr your lipstick too loud for your color