Angry Black Woman

Angry Black Woman

I’m constantly told I’m too much

And not enough

All at once.

No matter what

There’s always something to say

I’m too loud, too tough,

My accent’s too fake

It’s summer, I’m in shorts

So I asked to be raped.

If my hair is relaxed 

I’m a bald-headed bitch

Who doesn’t love herself

But if I chop it all off

Or decide to let my locs 


Now, I’m a nappy-headed bitch.

And God-forbid I wear wigs

Weave, and some long acrylic nails

Because then I’m a ghetto

Or a bougie bitch.

But I’m supposed to take it all

In with a smile and probably

Give them a damn silver platter, 

And a “yes massa.”

Any show of emotion

Is considered an outburst

I’m defying my “massa” but if it’s reversed

and my skin looked a little lighter

They might think first

That my feelings are valid

When I’m treated like shit

But nah

 they flip 

The whole script

When I fire back with what they sent.

Then I get called 

Scary, bitchy, petty, 

Nigger, blackie, gorilla

and everything in between

Because it’s apparently mean

To defend yourself when you look like me.

They disrespect me

And say they’re the disrespected

They play the victim and

Then I’m the one inspected

While they’re the one protected.

We see it with Serena, 

We see it with Michelle

We see it with every “angry” black woman

When all we’re trying to do is to tell

Our side of the story 

And demand some respect 

But again, when your skin

Is quite a bit lighter in pigment

it’s not “angry”, it’s assertive

It’s not bitchy, it’s determined,

It’s not scary, it’s simply passionate

I think you all can tell I’m fed up with it.

And if you watch and do nothing, 

you too are complicit

You’re no better than them

Even if you haven’t said shit.


Could this poem be a problem

Tomorrow? Yes,

But as for tonight

This angry black woman?

She couldn’t give a fuck less.

A Prayer.

A Prayer.