Monday, April 20, 2015

I Get High

I get high, high, high
I get high, high, highI get high off the memories…
I get high, high, high
I get high off the memories

I remember when I was a person
Biology had failed me in my humanity
I was barely 3/5ths of a person
Before my brothers were given their 40%
And I became American
Then I could vote
But I still wasn’t a big somebody
I wasn’t a man
I wasn’t White

I get high off my own supply
My nappy hair
My Z Snap
My anger
My tendencies to be grammatically incorrect
My ghetto and my ratchét
Even though the pusha man
Sells my supply at a premium
Thinking it belongs to all y’all

I remember not being beautiful
Trying to buy it with Ambi Bleach and Nadinola
Trying to relax all the ugly out of my hair
Buying blue and green contacts
Just so I can see beauty
And others could see beauty when they see me
Working so hard to be straight
Because who likes curves?

I am high
Elevated to a whole ‘nother level
Looking down on white Feminism
Part of me wants to shout,
“The air is better up here!”
My colored sisters look at me and laugh
They understand that our level isn’t for everyone
Some intersect
And others run parallel
The womanist air is too sharp for some
I just sigh and lay back on a cloud

I get high, high, high
I get high, high, high,
I get high, high, high
I get high, high, high, high, high…

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