To be Black in Africa

To be Black in Africa is to live a life of strife

It is to have your dignity constantly stripped

While onlookers point in disgust at your public state of undress

It is to be acceptable in Nervous Conditions

And to be suspicious in your affluence

Any step away from familial poverty begs an inquiry into your affairs

Words of slander flung carelessly

To be Black and African is to be maligned by fontanelle children of the upper echelon

It is to be without possession, for any progress may simply be reduced with a coffee cart

It is to be disregarded as having valid opinions

Only to be heard in the counterpart's voice that regurgitates your words as his own

To be a Black Woman is Africa is to be misunderstood

It is to be the paradox of love and hate, nurturer and homewrecker

It is to be dismembered and discarded with last night's garbage

To be a Black woman in Africa is to feed a nation from your own flesh, mould and guide future generations

It is to be the recipient of the disdain upon your insufficiency (not for want of trying on your part)

It is to be without recognition as a contributor

To be a Black woman in Africa is to be a fighter

It is to be hard as rock and as fragile as the wilting crimson petal

To be a Black Womxn in Africa is to be indestructible

It is to be a construction site for the ideas of men, now a discarded vision inhabited by squatters

It is to be without, a place to belong.