Love It Or Weave It

You might remember a poem of mine called “Love It Or Leave It”. Well this ain’t it. That one was about war; this one is about har.

Dedicated to my Black and Brown sisters…

 

i like it tall and low

big and wide

give it to me “extra-moosed”

long, wavy, locked, loosed

of classic sized:

fried, dyed, and laid to the side

like Grace Jones—

bared to the boned

slave to the ‘laxer

or hot combed

natural rhythms

all froed up

like the old Whitney Houston—

all blowed up

Indian-claimed straightened

Creole-Creek-Cherokeed mixed

or laid down tracksed,

all sewed up

explosive Seventies

or Sade-pulled skin tight

or Vanessa-fine, damned near white

we came as only the Creator made it

but change it up

shave it up

extend it

hate it

curl it

straight it

do it so much you forget who you are

ghetto queen

lip singer

or movie star

blonde hair matched to them unnatural blue eyes

keep it real

cause hair can tell lies

about good grades and family lines

and roots so deep

they sprout from minds

gardens we grow from seeds planted in our eyes and ears

yielding fruit feeding off our souls for years

will either develop or decay

while incubating in our hearts

and manifest into majestic crowns

or dunce-cap shackles to the enslaving,

oppressive weights on our heads

drown who we be

in oceans of who we see

disguises to help us deny our descent

our hair is the windows into our history

racial pride hides inside

natural expressions then retrieve it

so I say to you, Black America:

Love it

Or weave it.

“love it or weave it“


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