A letter to the Black Woman

The Black Woman

I entered the world through you, you were my world before I had even entered the outer world. The cicatrix of my navel is a scar that is a reminder of our once attachment, it’s a scar of your love and the sacrifices that you had made to bring me to live into the world. From you, came to my first meal, my first hug, and my first kiss. My pains had become your pains, you had cried my tears through your own eyes. Your love had taught me that love without pain is love without a pulse. You had sacrificed your own happiness to travel down the path of my unhappiness on many occasions so that you could comfort me, be with me, and share in my unhappiness with me. Your love and strength permeate through the Blackman, the black child, and the black race; you are my black superwoman, my black Madonna, my black Queen, and my black mother.

You had endured a double dose of assaults, one for your blackness, and another for your woman-ness. The sun had never shone of a more burden face as it did yours. Not only were you enslaved; you were commoditized, bought, and sold like a cattle. Your children were ripped from your bosom and sold to unknown places without any chance of returning. No other woman had faced as difficult of choices as you; whenever you were expected with the child you had to choose whether you were going to deliver your child into the bosom of death or into the arms of slavery. Whatever choice you had made, the guilt was not yours to bear, the shame was not yours to bear but rather on those who had exploited your blackness and woman-ness. Yes, you’re black, yet it is this blackness that had brought the light of life into the world. Yes, you’re a woman, the mother of the human race; through the pain of gestation, you had manifested the human’s feet upon the face of the earth. Your blackness and woman-ness are not marks of shame, they are the essence of beauty, the essence of strength, the essence of comfort, and the essence of life.

Though I had cheated you of freedom by selling you into a strange hand and into a strange land–you still loved me. Though I had shifted the burden of my manhood upon your already burden black womanhood, causing you to be both the mother and father that you should never have to be — you were still there for me. I apologize for these wrongs and for all the wrongs that I have forgotten to apologize to you for. You will always be within me and I will always be within you. I am your black son, your black brother, and your black Prince.  

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