I came up with this piece once I began to think about the problems African American women face when it comes to being dehumanized and looked down upon by the world and our own community.
To those with large, dark lips, nappy kinks, and midnight skin—
sorry to say that we amount to nothing
We are nothing but the loudmouthed, dumb, jealous, ugly, and bitter roaches that everyone is ready to step on
Even our own are prepared to do it
We are the female dog, the garden tool, and that is all we’ll ever add up to be
Our beauty is nonexistent
We hold no power or resilience
When someone says we deserve better, prepare yourself for the rants:
“No! All women deserve better!”
Feeling pretty?
Well let’s prepare ourselves to be bashed against the head and spat on by our own men
Skin color will separate us because light is always better
Bodies drooled over, but when finished being used
are thrown out like trash or dragged through the mud no matter what we do
Portrayed as hoodrats, poor, and ghetto is an inevitability
Attitudes holding us back because we are the worst kind of woman
Imagine believing that?
Imagine that we aren’t the glue that is holding this world together
Imagine that we haven’t influenced others,
despite never having been given any credit that we deserve
Imagine thinking that our sun-kissed skin is an abomination to society unless it is as light as a brown paper bag like Beyoncé’s
Imagine that we aren’t one of the most educated demographics
Imagine that we can’t come together and grow
We are powerful, resilient, and beautiful
And we do deserve so much more.
Even though I know how very far
When I wrote this I was thinking about some of the things Assata and I have been talking about this year: our hopes and fears about the future, and how to share the reality of our experiences through words.
The eclipse made me think of
two cartoon mice singing to one another
Fievel and his sister, whose name you might not remember
but it’s Tanya Mousekewitz
And later a steel drum band covering the song
someone sending it to me before the reality problem chasmed between us
And later, quite recently, two celestial bodies converging along their paths
the way they do from time to time
Their pace is leisurely and relentless, a way I’d like to be
A momentary awareness of the shared sky and then we’re back
wrestling strong theories and donating to GoFundMe
Money sent to strangers for any and every thing
A meditation made material, without the pause or the peace
All year I have been tired and awake
or asleep with my mind racing
There’s a story that keeps reoccurring
where we’re not seeing the same thing
even if we’re in the same place, looking in the same direction
I’m trying to say what it looks like over here
and I want to know what it looks like where you are
The future depends on us speaking precisely
so that’s what we are learning to do
JANEIN BROOKES
YEARS AS MENTEE: 2
GRADE: Sophomore
HIGH SCHOOL: Success Academy High School of the Liberal Arts
BORN: New York, NY
LIVES: Bronx, NY
PUBLICATIONS AND RECOGNITIONS: Scholastic Art & Writing Awards: two Silver Keys
MENTEE’S ANECDOTE: As a free-verse poet, committing to a sonnet, a structured writing style, was not easy. I remember being frustrated with counting the vowels of each word, and that annoyed feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever Cynthia asked me to choose a different word. Still, when I wrote the last word, even though there was no drastic world change, I felt like the entire world had tilted on its axis. Despite my clammy hands and throbbing migraine, I felt a rush of pride and overwhelming self-worth, like a great breeze had blown the clouds out of my sun’s way.
CYNTHIA-MARIE O’BRIEN
YEARS AS MENTOR: 2
OCCUPATION: Copy Editor, Queens Library
BORN: New Haven, CT
LIVES: Queens, NY
PUBLICATIONS AND RECOGNITIONS: America, The Literary Review, U.S. Catholic
MENTOR’S ANECDOTE: After the Structured Poetry workshop, Janein was initially reluctant to use forms. She even told me that she hates structure. I challenged her to use form—a sonnet—to focus her ideas—and she did! The resulting poem won a Scholastic Art & Writing award. I was so proud of how she stretched herself as a writer and moved the judges.
“Soar” is a sonnet, and my first structured piece. As a poet, I prefer to write free verse. “Soar” is personal because, while I don’t know the boy, I watched him grow up.
Go on and fly little chocolate boy, fly! Won’t you fly?
Will your wheels roll fast enough for you to get along
In a world that doesn’t protect little chocolate boys?
Tell the world that your moving body is not a toy. Fly!
Your stare is patient enough to hide insanity