Something for the One I Wake Up on the Right Side of the Pillow With

I told you you'd know when the post was for you right?
Well, here it is.
I gotta thank Ms. Hughes for passing me this one.

NATURAL GLORY by Kat Francois

Thick concentric rings regally sit on top of small Nubian heads, each strand, defiant in the face of continued rejection and mutilation, each coil an antenna creating a direct link to the heavens channeling special blessings which whisper affirmations of eternal beauty so all little black girls Who have naps, afros or braids know they are special regardless of what images of perfection are shoved down their young throats.

Their mothers are not at war with them but eagerly accept their natural glory, lovingly wash, caress, stroke and comb, until intricate designs, passed down through generations, criss cross-shiny scalps, enhancing thick lips, wide noses and complimenting an array of brown hues, they learn they are worthy regardless of the length, texture of hair or shade of skin, negative words bounce off sturdy backs, for they possess an armour which enables them to see and feel beauty where many only see and feel ugly causing them to stride around with super heroine confidence.

They walk tall and proud as peacocks, and do not care if their locks, fail to blow in the wind nor do they feel inadequate when white girls or straight haired sisters preen by. They do not spend hours, dying straightening, transforming, places jumpers or towels on heads so they too can flick endlessly. They do not grow into woman who refuse to allow men to massage their aching scalps, sensually, missing out on important, male female intimacy, they are not the kind of woman, who try and maintain exact sexual positions, which do not cause weaves, or wigs to be disturbed.

Neither are they afraid of rain, but graciously welcome the cool liquid, which sustains life. Thick concentric rings regally sit on grown Nubian heads, each strand, defiant in the face of continued rejection and mutilation these women banish images of perfection, shoved down the throats of daughters, nieces, aunts, mothers and grandmothers turn their back on Eurocentric ideals which prove unattainable and wholeheartedly accept their natural beauty, In all it's nappy, glory.

Text Me When You Read This,
B

p.s. The song playing is the one I told you to listen to. "Don't you let those little boys fool you. Gotta love that afro hair do."