I am black. Black as blue-black cobalt, West Virginia black coal, ebony brilliant, black widowed, charred like overdone ribs. A black diamond or sapphire, eyeliner, and nail polish. Black as hair dye trying to cover white roots. A black panther sunbathing on a limb looking for a weak and unsuspecting lunch. Black as the chains that hung around the neck and body of my ancestors. But beautiful as a pair of black patent leather shoes that haven't been broken in or a dew-wet black rose. Yes, I'm black and beautiful! And you're a liar if you say I'm not!
About the Creator
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More stories from Carolyn June-Jackson and writers in Poets and other communities.
I Got It from My Mama
“I do believe in love at first sight because I’ve loved my mother since the day, I opened my eyes.” Florence Etta June was born in 1916. She was the second eldest child born to a sharecropper farmer and a housewife in South Carolina. There were eight other siblings, and granddaddy made sure they all finished high school. She once said that she loved finding a secret place to read and memorize poetry with so many children in the home. Another time, she told us, her family was so poor that they didn’t know there was a depression for the first two years because they always had smoked meat, fresh eggs, and vegetables from the garden.
By Carolyn June-Jackson4 years ago in Families
Autonomy Is The Real Privilege
Good morning, freedom-seekers! Today we’re gonna be looking at autonomy. A strange word, I know; one many would probably look at blankly and run away from on sight. We’re gonna figure out what it actually means, consider how it’s achieved, and decipher just how deeply most of us are tangled up in dependence without realising it.
By That ‘Freedom’ Guy4 days ago in Humans
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