No!  I am not that woman
You know the one
Caught in the crossfire of Black on Black crime,
The victim on the  11 o’clock news, with the catch phrase “LAST SEEN WEARING” stamped on her forehead

No!  I am not that woman, you know the one who would drown her baby or throw him away, rather than watching him starve.

No!  I was not that woman you heard about on the radio, who sold her body for a little bit of hit, so she could “Git—her—Hy—on”.

No! I’m not the woman who was almost beaten to death, by her out of work, ignorant backwards brute of a no—good man.  

I wasn’t the one who stole your money either.
I won’t take what is not mine, and I hate, what want of money, can do to your soul.

I wasn’t at the police station in that “Oh my Lord, what the heck do you think I have up there anyway” search position.

No!  I was not on that nasty Talk Show for low—lives with even lower characters,
And what the hell would I be doing fighting on National T.V. for the fleeting attention and crumbs of affection
From the cheating transsexual—transvestite, cross—dressing lover—boy, who is sleeping with my illegitimate crack—addicted bi—sexual Father.

No!  I was not the woman that trashed your apartment, or brought down the house value in your neighborhood.  I appreciate life, I wasn’t the one who murdered the defenceless old homeless crow, who lived down that filthy alley

Oh No, Not me.  I wasn’t the one in the cop car on that stinking cop show resisting arrest.  My head down and hand cuffed behind my back, with the accusations of arson ringing in my ears.

I will say this once loud and proud,  I own morals!  I don’t just have them, they belong to me. A God given gift.  I have too much pride to even have dirty laundry, much less air it in public.

You wish you could call me your problem child, rolling with the criminal elements of society.
You wish I was that  “Crazy Niger Bitch” you could put away in the local nut house.
You wish I was sick on the inside with some horrible disease of the body and soul.
You wish I was just the media’s symbol of the typical “Poor Black Female”
You wish you could capture my essences with every, or any known stereotype

You want to stick me into that narrow boxed opinion of yours.
Together with the Innuendo of who I should be.
I do not fit.  I will not shrink and change shape.

Who force fed to you, lies about me since your birth?
And what’s with the trinkets?
Well, pretty things aren’t that important to me.

Do I benefit from “Takers”?
I do not need blood—money.
I work hard for all I own, and honestly.

I am your worst enemy.
An educated, respectable, honourable, multi—cultural, classy woman of color

And I defy all the “Crap” the national newspapers say is within me.

I am all woman, not part of, but a whole one.
Loving, True, Giving and Intelligent.

Oh, by the way, there are so many languages available to me, I do not need “Ebonics”.
I agree with the statement “It’s just a stupid man’s HOOKED ON PHONICS”
I learned English well the first time around, thank you.

I am your worst nightmare, I do not care what you think is “Black” enough for my thoughts and actions.  I transcend my color code.  I’m  a humane child of GOD First, female second.

I despise whatever bad people do, especially to possess money.
My affections can’t be bought.

You will wake up screaming, I’m your worst nightmare.
I think people are more important than objects.

I will not fit in your little “Black” Box,
I’m too big
Too complex
Too deep
Too intense
Too hungry for knowledge
Too positive
Too magnificent to believe in any master but my God.

I am free,
As I live, I know I deserve all good things

I make every effort to better all aspects of my life,
I prefer right over wrong.
I can not be categorized by white brain washed preconceived notions.
I’m strong all over, not weak of will.
I’m whole, needing no one to approve or complete me.
Just enjoy, what I give has no strings.

I am that bad reoccurring reality.
A woman with conscience, and common sense.

I believe in Unity, Dignity, and Love:
Everything Black can be “Beautiful”
MY “Beauty” is not “Skin Deep”
And “My Skin” is what I am comfortable in.

Be very afraid
“Money” is not my God,
And my affections can not be bought.
Forget the fiction
I am a real “Black Woman”

Written By
Kim M. Husbands
First published on Millenniumshift.com
(hate, black on black)