Queens don’t always talk
Or look nice and polished.
But we still handle our business regardless.
When I look up the sky
And see the midnight constellations
As beautiful and untouchable as ever,
I remember the queens of past generations
Who did their best
To be bread, butter, and breast
For entire nations.
This should be cause for celebration.
But Phenomenal women rarely
get the recognition we deserve.
We have to yell to be heard.
And we have to bow to Kings
To have our legacy preserved.
Behind every powerful King,
There was a patient Queen
Who had to play wife and mother to a high strung brother
Who actually had to choose
between his pride and his people.
History keeps replaying like a broken record on repeat.
Because just like my mother, and my grandmother,
And her mother, here I stand
As a tall dark melanated queen
With this Crown on my head
and the same chains on my feet.
My sisters, don’t be mistaken
This cycle is ours for the breaking
Because unlike our mothers and grandmothers
We have the access and options
To bring injustice to a stopping.
The world has tried to divide us Melanated Queens by color, wealth, and body size.
But they could never conquer our minds.
Let’s stop clinging to the kambiya
of fake unity and stand in solidarity
Because we are sisters
Born of the same struggle.
Let’s usher in a new era of
Support our sisters who have survived
A man’s entitlement and curiosity.
Let’s liberate each other through acceptance and honesty.
Because in love there is no violence and we, the melanated queens, are done suffering silence.