Of Course When They Ask for Poems About the 'Realities' of Black Women by Grace Nichols

Also Read

 

Read the Analysis Here 

What they really want

at times

is a specimen

whose heart is in the dust

A mother-of-sufferer

trampled, oppressed

they want a little black blood

undressed

and validation

for the abused stereotype

already in their heads

Or else they want

a perfect song

I can say I can write

no poem big enough

to hold the essence

of a black woman

or a white woman

or a green woman

And there are black women

and black women

like a contrasting sky

of rainbow spectrum

Touch a black woman

you mistake for a rock

and feel her melting

down to fudge

Cradle a soft black woman

and burn fingers as you trace

revolution

Read the Analysis 

And yes we cut bush

to clear paths

for our children

and yes,

we throw sprat

to catch whale

and yes,

if need be we'll trade

a piece-a-pussy

than see the pickney dem

in de grip-a-hungry-belly

Still, there ain't no

easy-belly category

of a black woman

or a white woman

or a green woman

And there are black women

strong and eloquent

and focused

And there are black women

who somehow always manage to end up

frail victim

And there are black women

considered so dangerous

in South Africa

they prison them away

Maybe this poem is to say,

that I like to see

we black women

full-of-we-selves walking

Cruching out

with each dancing step

the twisted self-negating

history

we've inherited

Crushing out

with each dancing step