Self Black Love

Janae Polk, Staff Writer

It’s the skin, the melanin, the chocolate eyes

It’s the hair, whether weave or natural

It’s the ass, whether real or fake
It’s the music, whether rap or R&B that brings us all together


Ain’t it a beautiful thing to be black?

I’m not talking about moving from the ghetto to the heights, I’m talking about straight up black

No bougieness, no Michael Kors bags, or Louis Vuitton

I’m talking about a group of black folks just sitting at the dinner table hovering over greasy ass fried chicken, beans, collard greens, cornbread, Kool Aid, mac and cheese

These fatty foods are sustenance to our bodies, it connects us

I can smell the grease and seasonings from my grandma’s kitchen, my mouth waters

I yearn to bite into the flavorful flesh


As we choke over crispy pieces of skin, we laugh at the idiocy of this nation

We laugh at the people who ask, “ Can I touch your hair?” or “ Is this real?” or the funniest one, “How’d you get your hair to be straight like that?”


As a black girl, an awkward one at that, I know the daily struggle

This is for the black girls with the nappy ass hair, the ones who shed tears as their mommas comb through that so called, “Kitchen”

Or the girls who spent hours sitting in chairs, letting other ladies braid their hair

This is for the skinny black girls who get scolded for not “ eating enough”, even though they sneak about three ribs back to their room after everyone has gone home

This is for the thick black girls who had to throw away countless number of jeans because after the struggle of putting them on, those thick thighs still burst through the seams


This is for the black girls who are “woke”, don’t ever let anyone tell you that your problems are over, don’t let anybody dead the issue

Most definitely do not let anybody disrespect you

Neglect you

Verbally crucify you

Dehumanize you

You are more, you are golden

Trust and believe


Black girls, we need more self-love

Stop differentiating between light skin, brown skin, and dark skin

Chocolate is Chocolate

Whether it’s sweet or bitter

We don’t have to prove ourselves through competition

Because we just know we got it like that


It’s the swagger

The pants that hang low, the backward caps

The air force ones, the Nikes


We are the true riders

The true heroes

We are the best, the biggest, and the baddest

The negro, the inferior, they mock us for their self-pleasure

But don’t doubt because we may not have it all together, but trust, together we have it all


Black people, hand in hand, have “A seat at the table” (Solange)

Take a sip of “ Lemonade” (Beyonce)

Be aware of what surrounds you, the trees, the southern humidity, the sound of crickets

Pick up those forks, because this dinner, this gathering, is what we have, and what we have is forever