So, way back in the year 2008, I wrote this poem entitled Dear Black Men. I used it in the Hollywood Grand Slam Finals that year, got a 30 (which, in case you didn't know is a perfect score, bish) and a standing ovation, but went over time (due to audience reaction, and not enough editing before hand) and didn't make the gatdamn team [insert weeping here].
This poem later went on to become somewhat infamous. It now lives in my book, Five-Three and Rising. It has terrorized many a Black man in it's day. I rarely read it anymore, but when I do, it entertains me thoroughly.
Yesterday, Psychology Today published an article entitled "Why Are Black Women Rated Less Physically Attractive Than Other Women, But Black Men Are Rated Better Looking Than Other Men?". As you probably guessed, it talks about the reasons why Black women are generally ugly, especially in comparison to women of other races. In fact, we're so ugly, we're less attractive than men. That explains why I couldn't get a date for 5 years straight. Well, that and the fact that I'm a bald headed abomination. Thank you, Psychology Today for clearing all of this up for me. Now I can go eat my watermellon in peace.
Anyway, here's the poem. If you had not yet experienced it, you have that silly article to thank. Enjoy.
Dear Black Men,
It has recently come to my attention
that you think
I ain't shit
Imagine tha shock and dissapointment
I experienced
When I realized that all this time
I been walkin around here
with eyes
So ridiculously brown,
They've actually been scientifically identified
as "Attention Resistant"
Which would explain why
They all but refuse to be gazed into
Research led me to discover that I'm not tha only one
Plagued with this terrible condition
Which, apparently
originated in tha same place AIDS did
And there are women all over tha world
Suffering from tha same incurable affliction
Of brown-eyed-ness
As of now, no anctedote exists
Centers for Disease Control is working on it
But in tha meantime,
These melanin infested eyes of mine
Are so run of tha mill
That you cant help but feel
Uninspired
And trying to admire
or even acknowlege them
In tha slightest bit
Has left you tired on levels never before experienced
and unwilling to make any further attempts
and I must say I understand
I mean, why bother
with eyes that ain't even blue
or at least green?
Hell, hazel would be an improvement
Its a wonder I can even see with these
raggedy things
and one would think
That I would atleast
Hav tha decency
To wear colored contacts
When in your company
Whut tha fuck is wrong with me?
And why hav I been trippin so hard?
And for so long?
Really, I marvel at your ability
To put up with me
At all
Black men, I am so very sorry
My hair
Is so very nappy
I just never realized all tha pain it caused you
Until tha other day
When I caught a glimpse of these kinks
and stubborn twists
In tha mirror
And I must say,
It was unsightly
To say tha very least
I would even go as far as to say
That it bordered on frightening
How do I expect you
To run your fingers
Through this audacious barbwire maze?
This shit ain't luxurious!
It ain't even fair to you
And tho I was offeneded at first
I now realize that
Whut Don Imus had to say
Was merely based on an observation
That man's statement was rooted in truth
We ARE some nappy headed hoes
And just to think
That I was walkin around here, oblivious
When tha proof
Was all up and thru my scalp
And all around my edges
Is too shameful
For me to even contemplate
Clearly, tha nape of my neck is in dire need
Of some attention
From a hot pressing comb
I'm wrong.
Black men,
How hav you managed to maintain your sanity
Under these conditions?
Where do you get tha energy
To keep up with me
When I'm dancing
On beat?
How did you develop tha fortitude
That allows you to deal
With all this unnecessary
black girl attitude?
I mean, I'm aware
I reach new levels
of irreverence, everyday
Parading around
In this dark skin
With these big lips
and this massive mouth
That, despite my sincerest efforts
Won't allow itself to be toned down
Turned off or tuned out
I won't shrink, straighten or fade
And despite many colonialist's efforts
As rapists
It appears my blackness
Remains relatively undiluted
Which leads me to believe that
Tha only possible solution
To this rampant outbreak of blackness
Is for you to keep on persuing
White women
(and females of other exotic ethnic origins)
With tha fervor
And tireless dilligence
That only a black man
Can exhibit
And in tha meantime...
I realize
That despite my dedication to you
I will never be white
But, brutha...
For you
Tha least a sista can do
Is try
Sincerely,
Nikki Blak
