Poem 01: Lipstick

 

when i was twelve

my musical theatre middle school class 

eagerly went to perform for a crowd of strangers. 


girls as pretty and pale as every princess from my childhood put on radiant red lipstick as they prepared for the production.


i was told that,

“Black girls can’t wear red 

lipstick.”


why?


apparently, the richness of our skin didn’t go with the rubies and roses that compliment fairer faces.


our lips were too wide 

and dark to bloom fields of 

poppies

peonies

and 

petunias.


we had to stick with earth tones

but i thought that was only an excuse to keep treating us like dirt. 


Black people can’t wear red lipstick 

or have blonde hair 

because they’ll look like Duracell batteries-

a joke one of my leaders once made and my white

(at the time)

boyfriend reiterated

when i suggested i get braids

as yellow as sunshine. 


Black people can’t wear red lipstick 

or

have blonde hair 

or

put on tights that match their skin tone 

because they either come in white girl 

neutral or Midnight Black


because we are not the standard of beauty 

and the standard will not inconvenience itself to fit our

skin,

shape, 

sizes,

stereotypes. 

———————————————————

when i was twenty-three

i directed a play for middle school students in Minnesota.


there was only one Black child in the cast.

she had Cantu cream in her backpack and a need for hands that could handle her hair. 


i gathered her curls, 

familiar with how they felt because of my own tresses

and proudly pulled it back in a ponytail-

not too hard though, 

in case she was tender-headed. 


i told her how beautiful her texture was.

i told her how wonderfully her Brown eyes sparkled. 

i complimented the way the red of the 

lipstick looked against her skin. 


looking at her, 

finally,

i had been freed of the lies i was once told 

and i learned that

Black skin

and full lips 

were made for red.


 
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Poem 02: Song Bird