They asked me what I wanted
Then told me I couldn’t have it.
Put freedom in a basket,
then made it illegal for me to carry it.
Cross your legs lil’ girl.
You too black lil’ girl.
Comb your hair lil’ girl.
Be a freak lil’ girl.
But be a good girl, girl.
Cook for him girl.
But don’t be no mans mama girl.
Damn, graduate girl.
But go to jail, that’s sexy girl.
Be a lil’ crazy he likes that shit girl.
Now act like you got some sense girl.
The dichotomy of it all.
The hypocrisy of it all.
Black women worked in fields, next to black men who don’t even love them now.
Tragic.
That the history of black love died out with patch jeans, and Blue Magic.
They call this a rant.
Or maybe another angry black woman.
Maybe another black disappointed woman.
Or maybe another truth.
That in this here space.
And this here moment.
Maybe I was just being honest.
Indigo 