For My Sistahs
Sitting for hours in the beautician's chair
Vehemently wishing that you were elsewhere
Cause “Miss Matilda” has got your head wet
while she serves 4 others so you can't leave yet
For My Sistahs
Who take vitamins, eat mystery foods
Try “this new perm” with “that new weave glue”
Use bergamot and super grow
All in an effort to see our hair “blow”
But to be like whom
And for what
For My Sistahs
Who have been depressed, repressed suppressed and oppressed
While we press our hair, bodies and minds into a semblance of what we believe is
White, oops, I mean right
For My Sistahs
Burning while perming to smooth every knot
Praying, unbraiding, “I hope this ain't locked!”
Why we want to be Barbie is so far beyond me
Queens of the Nile have their own special style
So let me stimulate your mind as I masturbate your hair follicles
Causing you to ejaculate something historical and knowledgeable. . .
If you believe we are daughters of our Father God,
Who we know is perfect and makes nothing flawed,
And Jesus loved us and died for our sins,
And we are made like them without and within.
Then my queens
As you sit in that chair to break down
The lamb's wool that our Father's son wears as his crown. . .
Ask yourself
To be like whom
And for what
Those who weave in the beauty - still slay like queens
Yet are somehow demeaned
As we measure our desirability by the inch
Comparing ourselves to some television wench
Embodying the pain that my sistahs feel
when our kings reveal
they rather see something fake, than feel something real
It's 2 thousand 16 and my locs still cause shock?
Time to pull our knowledge of self off the shelf
To respect the coil that without any toil flows from our heads like the richest of oil
From kitchen to crown our follicles spring
not over-processed, dry, dead, broken old things
Living history surrounding and drawing toward self
Bringing us self-love - the essence of health
For my sistahs
I wish you
Spring
Spring
Spring
Springs
The representation of all growing things
Exaltation is the essence of this message that I bring
No longer with hatred of self should you toil
To take from your crown it's natural coil
Whether you have a handful, a piece or a head
A plat or a twist, or a braid or a dread
A queen should wear a crown
Yours is already on your head
Stop rejecting your inheritance, embrace it instead. . .
To be like who? YOU!
And for what?
For us - Sistahs.