The Dichotomy of the Strong Black Woman

I haven’t been posting in a while because a new school year recently began. The first week is usually quite overwhelming and, honestly, leaves little time for anything other than setting up procedures, assignments, and other things for the new school year.

This poem is one I’ve wanted to write. Ever since I decided that I no longer wanted to be known as a strong black woman because I recognized that the label “strong” somehow seemed to detract from my womanhood.

Here’s what I have so far:

The Dichotomy of the Strong Black Woman

To carry the world on our shoulders
without uttering one word of misery,
yet to desire the pearls of womanhood
that is the dichotomy of the strong black woman.

We wear the mask that grins and lies
because we want to hold onto our pride,
then pay the price by being pushed aside
as a way is made for a woman, the real ones.
My black Kings don’t hold the door open for me
because I told him I’d do it myself.
My black Kings won’t hold their hand out to me
because I told him I didn’t need him.
My black Kings won’t defend me
because I proved to him I’m a strong on my own.

When the rent is due, I won’t call you
or anyone else ‘cuz I got this. When
the TV is on the fritz, I’ll figure it out
‘cuz I got this. When my tire is flat,
I won’t call you ‘cuz I got this. When
I need help, any help at all, I
won’t call you ‘cuz I got this.

Somehow the strong overshadows the woman
so I’m left standing all alone. And it’s those times
when I’m all alone that I take off my mask and
see the lies I’ve been feeding you and me, that
even though I can handle it all on my own
I don’t really want to. And that’s the dichotomy
of being a strong black woman.

Happy writing and reading peeps!

Peace & Love,
Rosalind

strong-black-woman

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About Rosalind Guy

I'm broken & my soul is weary/ my weary soul rebels, fights/ anything & anyone who tries to heal me/I beat my head against a wall of memories/ trying hard to break free from the chain of memories/ I can only be free by saying it so/ i weave a necklace from words and finally/ I find freedom/ free free free. As you can see, words are powerful to me. As Maya Angelou said, words are wallpaper of the soul. I have lots of nightmarish memories that threaten to break me, but I learned a long time ago about the power of words. They can be used to heal and destroy anything that threatens to destroy the person. Words coupled with love have the power to save and heal. I am author of three books: Skinny Dipping in the Pool of Womanhood, Tattered Butterfly Wings, and Blues of a Love Junkie. I am a high school English teacher. I am a former reporter. I am a mother. I am a woman. I am a fierce advocate for those who cannot speak for themselves, those who's voices go unheard. Check out my Amazon author page at the following link: http://www.amazon.com/Rosalind-Guy/e/B00BGH5F88/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1432491754&sr=8-1.
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