Ain't I A Woman? The Answer--It's Poetic

In response to someone asking: Where are all the black feminists?

Response:

Raised Fists, Bronzed and Goldened

Grazed Afros, Blackened, But Sometimes Grayed

Dark Stares At The Bronzed Faces Thirst For Change...

That's When My Foremothers Came

That's When The Lives Of The Dually Oppressed Became

Firmly Dedicated To Asking: Aint I A Woman?

Soujourner, Assata, Angela, and bell

I'm Sure They Felt That With No Rights Life Was Near To Hell

That's When Raised Fists Became Moist With Sweat and Cramped From Anger

When Tears Formed The Question: Ain' I A Woman?

Lurked Deep Within Hearts Which Were Torn

Flowed, Those Words, Those Words They Flowed, Through Their Lungs

To Their Lips Tasting The Sweat Tinged Tears...

So, I Ask: Ain't I?, So, She Asks:Ain't She, So, We Ask: Ain't We...WOMEN?

Sit-ins, Protests, Speeches, Novellas, Anthologies, Too Many Damn Apologies

For The Exiles, The Denials, The Oppression, The Possession, And The Obsession

With Neglectin' Me...Because I Represent We!

Asked Once Where Did All The Black Feministas Dissapear To?

Well, By Which Medium Are You Attempting To Steal A View?

Because I, Better Yet, We Are Still Professing Their Names.

Now, Their Stories and Glories Are Our Ammunition To Continue Asking:

Ain't I A Woman?

Their Trials and Triumphs Are Our Catalysts For Change.

It's Just Somethings Resemble The Same Games But, Simply Decades Away.

From Being Called Mammies, To Prostitues, To "Welfare Queens",

To Booty Shakin' Video Hoes Chasin' HIS Green...

Things Haven't Changed If You Asked Me!

We Don't Fight Together Anymore, Or Maybe We Never Have, Only Each Other

The Answer:

The Real Change Comes From Both Our Sisters and Our Brothers...