When we were Black Women

It’s been a while since I’ve penned my thoughts down but I simply could not ignore how I have been feeling with the recent news regarding Femicide. So here it is, my heart-felt poem on this topic.


When we were Black Women


When we were black women,

we used to walk this rich land

with abundance on our lips

warmth woven in our grip,

rhythm pulsing in our hips

and viewed the world through sun-kissed eyelids.


When we were black women,

our crowns mirrored pride rather than disgust

our bodies belonged to us

our hearts were soaked in trust

our brothers would kill to protect us.


Now, the Earth orbits anti-clockwise

we see bullets rather than birds fly

not in the end of days but during femicide

because a black woman is born a crime.


Now, we mine for black women in a boyfriend’s backyard

inside the boot of taxis and cars,

at playgrounds and children’s parks

behind ‘kwa-next door’ after dark.


Like water, our emancipation is fluid

filling the cracks of an unjust society

‘enough’ loses its strength in OUR vocabulary

because once, we visited the president at his residency,

changed our minds when it came to sexuality,

wore our clothes a little too tightly,

proceeded to smile whilst flirting,

had the nerve to ignore the cat-calling

and being labelled as a ‘bitch who loves back chatting’.


When we were black women,

our OPTIONS became critical life choices

of how to survive and stay alive.


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