To the girl with the dark brown eyes,
to the girl with the caramel colored skin
the patches and the white but not quite
to the yellow girls, the brown girls, to the girls who are just kind of tan and totally caramel,
You exist, did you know that? Apparently some people forgot to look at you, to see how powerful you are, apparently we got so tired of fighting that we rested so long and now we’re in a space of trying to remind them.
We watched our ancestors as they wept,
we hear their tears when fall when the rain comes
we know the secrets of the Ancient ones in the rows of corn and cotton
the Gin makers and the girls who were forced on their knees.
We heard the story of their hopes that one day the white man would work for the black woman
Yes Woman, because even in the days of old we knew that the Black men have forgotten the power of their women. A lesson every man is learning, because you exist.
Because no matter what your ancestors went through, no matter how much they suffered, they existed in exactly the right way so that you would be born exactly as you are, even if you think you could be doing better.
They know that you exist because they heard your tears.
Heard you wonder why after all these centuries you the light skinned colored girl, don’t matter as much as the dark skinned counterparts or the pure white skinned girls.
Always in between, “not Black” girls, exist too.
They dance, they sing and they praise the Gods in the coming wars, then they take their rest sit back and smile coldly as they plot the demise of the idea that they don’t exist, because they know exactly when and how to strike to the right nerve at the right time and they know this and you’re just learning this.
To those girls, I say hello, little Warriors, welcome to the in between phase, welcome to the war in the middle of the chaos that is twenty-nineteen. You’re doing exactly what you need to be doing at this moment so worry not. Let them wait.
You got all the time in the world,
All my love,
The Tired Resting Loud Mouth Brown Girl.