According to the Media

According to the Media

I am an Angry Black Woman

So when you take one look at me what do you see

Do you see the fire in my eyes fueled by the lies that white supremacy writes about me

Do you hips make you assume I am impure

Does my aura make you unsure

Of whether I am angry or hyperseuxal

Despite my pain being integral to the history you try so hard to pretend that you can’t see

But whenever I hear “why are black women so angry”

It takes everything in me not to embrace that Angry Black Woman narrative

The media constantly throws in our face

Imagine what it is like to be disliked by everyone, even your own race

All I want is to be seen

as a human and not a doll

“Oh she’s so pretty” “That’s my smart black friend”

Even their compliments crawl across my skin

Because they constantly remind me I am in

Keep your back handed expressions and microaggressions to yourself

Because when I snap back

I am angry despite you being ignorant to your wealth

But wouldn’t you be angry too if you had no room to even exist

Wouldn’t you be angry if black men approached you assuming you’ll be their next sexual interest

If white men struggle to acknowledge that you even exist

Or if white women were walking on eggshells

afraid to mistakenly send you a diss

Imagine having two identities and they contradict themselves

When you’re black and a woman

You don’t get the virtue a white woman is pictured as

Or the army that stands behind a black man

You become the angry, violent, hyper sexual black woman

The label the media loves to place on our chests

And when I respond back everyone expects me to digress

What if I am tired of being a walking stone to other people’s success

Or I am tired of being another black woman who raises her hands in protest

For the narrative of me to be twisted

Into the demon you wish I was