my kind of black is wondering
if compliments are cruel jokes
or micro aggressions
with “for a black girl”
silently attached to the end.
it’s as dark as the reality of
not being beautiful to anybody
except rarely and in secrecy.
my kind of black is too black
to be proud to be black in front of black people.
it’s the kind you hide from the sun
so it doesn’t get any blacker.
the kind that is made
to feel ashamed to be black
as if being as black as me
is the worst black to be.
but most of all, my black is
a shape shifting magic kind of black
that alters itself
depending on the eye of the beholder.
sometimes it’s a shimmering onyx
kind of breathtaking black,
but it’s black like dirt mostly
to everyone but me
and my daddy,
maybe.
--
ZaMari Love is a Hampton University alumna, graduate student, public servant and poet from Virginia. She uses the art as a form of catharsis and as a way to make sense of the parts of life that seem inexplicable. Her self-published collection titled "Forget Me Not" debuted on April 1, 2019. Aside from writing, ZaMari loves singing, reading, painting and laughing over wine.
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