Written by Mikayla Gary
From the shackles on our feet to the bullet wounds in our soul.
My Black has been defiled since the beginning of time. My Black is what motivates me to do the unimaginable. As fear and worry try to break us down, we pledge ourselves to stand against the horrors and the rage that the world may give us. From the color of my skin to the texture of my hair, I thank God for my beautiful soul. My hair is what makes my Black matter, my skin is what makes me powerful. I couldn’t imagine life without the beauty of my Black. The melanin of my skin is the armor over my soul. My Black has taught me how to live in freedom and never let obstacles be in control. The Nile is what runs deep within my soul to remind me of the freedom my ancestors have awarded me.
Threatened, beaten and killed, how are we still here today? My Black is what forces me to not accept failure as an option. As the ships swept from coast to coast, we said goodbye to our motherland, but knew that this wasn’t over. I never would’ve thought we would be so lost; I never would’ve thought it came with a cost. My Black has been stolen by the horrid memories of the slave ships and coast; my Black has been restored by the grace of Nyame-Nti.
To be stripped away from my native being and placed in a land of the unknown, my Black has been the sole reason why I rejoice. As I see myself, perseverance is the clothing of my Black that unfolds the beauty of my culture. My Black has stories that bring reassurance to my life and my future success. My Black is tied like Akoma Ntoso, allowing me to stay connected with my culture
Society has always tried to convince me that my Black doesn’t matter; however, through it all, my Black matters for millions of reasons. We have always strived for greatness, no matter the risk that we may have taken. As society tries to knock us down, we stand strong, despite the adversity that may come along. Since the beginning of time, my Black has been the root of all life and has been the lifeline of all mankind. Coming from the rich soils of Africa, my Black has always been the reason why I shine. My Black is what makes me proud; my Black is what makes me smile. My Black is something that I embrace, even when others tell me it’s a disgrace. From the shackles on our feet to the bullet wounds in our soul, my Black is still something I cherish like gold. My Black is the reason why I am here, my Black is the reason why I can dream.