Beauty: Understanding Who We Are As Black Womens
She Don’t Even Know Who She Is
By: Stephanie S. Franklin, Esq., “Mecca”
She don’t even know who she is. She’s always been told what she’s not. Girl, you are too black. Your hair is too nappy. Your lips…they big! Why you got that attitude? That’s what she’s been told all her life. She don’t know no better because after all, you don’t see her on T.V. Everybody knows that the most beautiful women are on T.V. girl, you don’t know that? So what you yella, you too big and loud. I hope you don’t think you look good. You got mama dean bearing hips girl. You know what’s pretty. Being delicate, fragile, soft spoken… Now you know you don’t fit that category. Ain’t nothin’ bout you delicate, so they say, nor fragile and definitely not soft spoken. That’s what we’ve been told what feminine is, what beauty is, what pretty is. Yeah, taking that all in all your life to the point where you believe it. She don’t even know who she is.
She don’t even know who she is. All her life she’s been told that she’s ugly, loud and don’t know how to be a lady. Men only want ladies. You know the kind. Light, petite, the kind that follows her man. Girl, you know what’s up…you ain’t nothing unless you bearing babies and got a man. You know that. You a woman. Your value is judged by how you look. And you don’t look good, so they say. She don’t even know who she is.
She don’t even know who she is. Sistas feelin’ that cold shoulder. Light skinned women ain’t even in no more, unable to enjoy their prior skin privilege regardless of what she looked like. You know how they say dark skinned men are in now? And that light skinned men went out of style in the 80’s? You know the saying. Well, dark skinned women always felt the freeze, she was never in. But now, the light skinned women are feeling the decrease in temperature because brothas is feel’s something different. They feeling the “I’m not sure what she is, sister.” Ya’ll know what I’m talking about. She ain’t black, she ain’t white, she Kardashian like. That’s the type. Seein’ her in the videos tryin’ to be you. That’s what some of the brothas is feelin’ now. And the sistas, well she feels straight left out! He pickin’ women that don’t even look like his mama, nor his sister, nor his grandma or auntie. She white…she right…that’s his type. Sistas feelin’ rejected, deep in her heart she wants to be affirmed by her man, the brotha. But he ain’t feelin’ her, he got somethin’ else on his mind. Just take a look at the NBA, NFL and some of the other brothas who go top dime. Got you fooled. Got you thinkin’ you ain’t on top, although the women he wants to date, he wants her to have the black woman’s shine. You know the shine…the swag, the style, the attitude. Something she can never capture because she ain’t a woman of hue. She don’t even know who she is.
She don’t even know who she is. Everybody’s trying to be her. Collagen lips, fake behinds and tanned skin. They want to look like her. She’s every woman. Everything every woman is striving to be, but she runs from the sun because she don’t want to be who she is, but everybody wants to be her. She don’t even know who she is.
She don’t even know who she is. She leaves the borders of these here United States. Time she exits she confronts her truth. She’s wanted by everybody, not only her own men, but every other man. Rich men, poor men, she’s confused. She don’t quite get it. I’m dark, thick in the hip, outspoken and sure and he’s knocking on my door. I don’t get it. Why does he want me? He raves of my beauty and says I’m exotic. I think exotic, I’m not exotic. But it make sense though, because all exotic is is looking different from other people in the culture. So I would be exotic in other parts of the world. I would be exotic in Switzerland, Italy, Cuba, South America, you name it. I don’t look like them, but they feelin’ me though. They love my swag, the louder I talk, the more they love me. You are so beautiful he raves. This is the black woman’s fantasy. Black woman with a U.S. passport, hmmmm, she don’t even know who she is.
She don’t even know who she is. Carrying the culture with her rhythmic stride. Hips rolling like the bolero and making all the men say “Hmmm, Hmmm.” She’s every woman. She’s big mama, your lover, your friend, your confidant. She is the mother of mothers. All life and creativity is birthed through her. Her style, her hair, her skin…BEAUTIFUL!!! She ranges from banana to deep chocolate cacao…that’s her, every woman. Her sensitivity, passion and compassion nurture the souls of everybody! She is the black mother, the mother of creation. Nothing moves without her. Nothing is born without her. She don’t even know who she is.
She don’t even know who she is. They ran in the slave quarters, looking for belly warmers. She couldn’t stand the sight of his face and the stench of his hot breath. He wanted her, lusting after the thick hips, big thighs and small waist. Remember the Hottentot? The Hottentot Venus that is? He didn’t see a body like that before. Put her on display for all to see. Thought she was a freak show, her hour glass body that he has never ever seen. His lust killed her. She don’t even know who she is.
She don’t even know who she is. She wearing locks now. You know the manicured kind. She screaming naturals is where it’s at, although she perming her edges to make sure that nothing is out of line. Everything must lay straight. Can’t have them “natural” locks looking nappy girl. Can’t have that. Nawww!! Too black. She don’t even know who she is.
She don’t even know who she is. Can’t see her own beauty because she watchin’ T.V. all day. Blurring the conscious mind with its subliminal messages telling your subconscious what beauty is. Blinded by the messages, she takes it all into her subconscious. It’s frequent and repetitive. Dulling her conscious mind, so that she is digesting the program of what she’s being told beauty is. She don’t even know it’s happening. All she knows is what she sees, and she don’t see nothing that looks like her. She don’t even know who she is.
Black women know who you are.
Black women know who you are. Your beauty has to be affirmed by you. You will never receive the external affirmation that you desire to affirm your beauty. Think about the political design and what you and others have been deluded to believe. You must hold the mental picture of your reality. You must hold it in your mind’s eye. If not, you will forever be unknowing of your truth, your beauty that no external person, being, structure or culture could ever do for you. You have been tricked, tricking you to believe what you are not. Hold on to your imaging because it really is who you are… BEAUTIFUL!!! Know that. Believe that. Feel that. You can create what your truth is with your mind and your belief in who you are. It’s yours for the taking. Walk into your power!!!
Practical Tips and Exercises:• Purchase a journal and pen/pencil that speaks to you. • Find a comfortable place where you will experience peace and solitude and will be undisturbed. • Ensure that your physical environment where you experience peace and solitude is physically pleasing to you (playing light music, burning candles, incense and aromatic oil burners, etc.) • Make a list of ten (10) things that you find beautiful about yourself. • Write these ten (10) beautiful things about yourself once a day for sixty (60) days. • Continue this exercise consistently. Through consistent intention and action, you can begin to formulate, in your mind’s eye, the beauty that you truly hold and the beauty that you truly are! Stephanie S. Franklin, Esq., “Mecca”Empowering individuals, families and communities. |
