there are so many things i want to tell you
but i don’t know how.
how do i tell you to love
your body and the melanin skin
when the ads for skin bleaching
creams have been there your entire life?
how do i tell you that you’re a goddess
and an african queen you don’t have
to pick one or the other when both
how do i tell you that your skin
is exceptional when all your life you’ve felt different
because of it? how do i tell you
that your skin is like those men and women we celebrate
who fought against racial and gender injustices, like those who endured
so much and loved and cried and still survived?
how do i tell you that in twenty years
the world will be invariably different, for good or bad
and you can be a part of that change?
i don’t know how to tell you that you’re
and make you believe it.
all i can hope is deep down
you do and one day
you’ll wear them like tattoos.
i know you are all of this
and more. All I know is this:
sometimes it’s nice to hear.
my hope for you is this:
one day, you’ll see yourself
the way i see you. And when
that day comes, and trust me, it will
your world will never be the same.