The Joy Scribbles

My daughter wants to know why they're no girls like her in her favourite Tv shows. So I told her she is special. The world doesn’t know yet that the prettiest woman has Kinky curls and cocoa brown skin. My daughter doesn’t get why magazines are filled with Bullets meant to kill little brown girls. Like jeans with no space for her curves. With pictures of a tiny bustier That her 32D breasts don’t fit without being vulgar. She wants to know why I she cannot wear shorts Without encouraging men to bust her lips and knock down her doors. My daughter wants to know who will save her. Who will love her melanin and kink. For some reason the answer she is looking for is not me. 

I’m about 1.5 meters of skin if we forget that bodies are made in loops and bends. I’m about ten shades lighter than black, One shade darker than yellow bone, Apparently still not quite yet red bone. I’m still light enough to sunburn easily, But too dark to tan. Yet not too dark to get darker. My bruises start out green ending in purplish-black patches that hurt almost as long as they last. While Hot showers and back rubs leave me red; Boys who suck my neck complain they cant own me. My legs are a patchwork of dry skin Cracks that sometimes remind me of pans drying after rain. If you pay attention you might notice the tiniest bits of hair. Elsewhere it grows thick, untamed, An expression of myself I’ve got scars Little stories but none in ink just yet. Just folding, healing skin. Little treasures of beauty spots hide across my body Like constellations against a the sky. Instead of silver they’re black Against my 10 shades l...