BLACK HISTORY

The Pain, Beauty, & History of Black Female Slaves

Poetry: 7 Parts — Black Butterfly

Table of Contents

• Intro
• I Am Strong.
• My Black Hair Is Beautiful.
• My Heritage Was Deleted.
• Rape.
• Weary.
• Mothers & Daughters.
• Surrendering.

Intro

This collection of poems is tangibly raw, describing the voices of Black women whose souls were beautiful yet broken in spirit. Their songs — filled with pain — have been passed down through the generations into the hearts, bodies, and minds of their daughters.

I Am Strong.

There is beauty in my blackness There is blackness in my beauty There is cocoa in my skin There is beauty in my kin

I carry the weight of a thousand pounds My rage is louder than a thousand sounds My beautiful lips stay silent by day My strength is a storm hidden away My spirit is broken but my soul is alive There is beauty in my blackness I am a Black Butterfly.

Give me my freedom Give me my dignity Give me my sanity Give me my beauty

My Black Hair Is Beautiful.

My hair pattern buzzes like a bee But I don’t need your sympathy I’m beautiful because I’m me

My hair is long My hair is short My hair not what you see My hair is everything My hair is the definition of creativity

Thick and coily Curly and nappy Never oily

They call my hair nappy They think it’s an insult But my hair is beautiful Long then short It’s so versatile

The ends of my hair Break Like my brittle bones Our souls are nourished only through song While my back breaks each day before dawn

My Heritage Was Deleted.

Torn from my family Ripped into pieces Shipped off to nowhere Enraptured in calamity

They believe that they own us They believe we aren’t human They believe they are above us They believe we are nothing

The beat of my chest Roars as we build your land as guests My freedom is gone While you force in me one of your own

Take everything from me Leave nothing left Rob me of my freedom But you feel no regret

Break my back While the skin on lips crack Tears come down my face While you continue to rape my race

I was only a girl For a little of time I was only a girl Til I was sold for less than a dime

Rape.

I’m lucky I can see the sky I’m lucky I’ve never felt his hand on my thigh

A stream of red Runs down my dress The kiss of nature It greets me with distress

I felt ripped open The first time I bled I cried in agony As I watched the steady rhythm of his head

I was made to never like dresses Because he always bothered me about it I was made to never like dresses Because of what I fear is desired beneath it I was made to never like dresses To match my beautiful curly tresses I was made to never like dresses Because you’re never safe in them I was made to never like dresses Because of how weak it made me feel I was made to never like dresses They were.

In our black thick lips We create ambiguous flowers In our black thick lips You shove your White Power

My thick thighs are nothing but different My beautiful soul has a unique scent My blackness is attractive You like my tint You want a taste So I lay still like cement

I lay there and take it While you fill me with hate All they do is take, take, take

The gold between my thighs Feeds the hatred behind his eyes His body I lay under As he beats against his plunder

I fight and scramble I reach for the edge He pulls up my dress And grabs me by the head

I stay in the house If I let him have it I’m still a slave But it’s better than out there

I see things Cause I stay in the house I stay quiet though As quiet as a mouse

I’m not to be found If I don’t make a sound Maybe he’ll forget That I’m even around

Through time I’ve been taught to be worthless I’m used to it now I’m not priceless

I’ve never loved I’ve never been loved I’ve only be raped I’ve only been sold Always with dehumanizing debate

I was taught to mute The song of my soul I was taught to accept mistreatment Between my loins I was taught that I’m nothing But a thing I was taught to not want Anything

Take off your shirt Rip off my skirt I feed your livestock You feed me your cock

It happens all the time Till I’m too old I’m worth less than nothing It happened all the time So, I forgot it was happening

Make something pink Nothing I can keep Make another thing Someone else taken from me

Don’t take my pink flower The only thing good Don’t take my pink flower You treacherous coward Don’t take my pink flower You took the last one Don’t take my pink flower Please let me hold my son

Weary.

These curves hold my pain These second set of lips hold my shame These hands of mine are tired The fire in my soul grows dire

Pain is normal I’m used to it A life without pain Is a foreign concept

Mothers & Daughters.

I feel the scars beneath my back I fight the tears; I stay in tack I learn to be silent as I teach to her Which is why she never cries out When her pain is too much to bear

I learn to forget Just like my mother She learned to forget Just like her mother

My daughters learned To accept anything That’s how you survive You become nothing

I’ve been taught That I’m not to provide I’ve been taught To depend on a no-good man I’ve been taught To be fine with getting beaten I’ve been taught To never speak out I’ve been taught To ignore the cries of my sisters

Surrendering.

I’m nothing more than a maim and a mute My eyes and limbs are only ever put to use Everything has been taken from me I’m an empty soul, barely walking I’m beaten and raped and tossed aside I’m forced to do things I yearn to die My thighs are thick for his fields and eyes What’s between my legs was never mine

It’s best to be silent When things aren’t right We learn to be quiet That’s how we fight

I’m always drowning In this sea I’m always drowning Because I’ll never be free

My earth shatters Beneath my chest My soul cries out It’s bleeding to death

What have I done To deserve this pain What have I done I’m going insane I don’t want to feel Make me numb I’m having dark thoughts I might just succumb

Who am I I’ll never know I’m worked and worked I’m kept unknown

I’ve learned to accept What’s given Don’t ask for more If I deserved more I would get more

I weep Because I’m tired of all this shit I weep Because I don’t know if it will ever end

-

I never discovered My many gifts I never discovered The beauty in my blackness

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Destiny S. Harris is a writer, poet, entrepreneur, teacher, and techie who offers free books daily on amazon. Destiny obtained three degrees in political science, psychology, and women’s studies. Follow her on Instagram, Facebook, or @ destinyh.com