what does radical motherhood look like?

What does radical motherhood look like!!

It looks like all the black dolls and action figures, which are dolls for boys.

It looks like chocolate, dark to light and midnight.

It smells like sunshine and blacker berries with sweet, sweeter juice.

It tastes like cupcakes and ice cream to celebrate how beautiful and nappy your hair is.

What does radical motherhood look like? It looks like bright smiles and warm hugs!
my baby, my chocolate drop, my sweet baby so beautiful so smart so wonderful so MINE!!

It looks like tall strong men and women who love being black, how it looks, walks, talks, smells.

“ah sookie sookie now”, “keep it 100”, bright smiles surrounded by full lips. Brilliance dripping from each word.

“are you taller than me?” “ah Ma”.
call them out those radical moms that mothered you when you didnt know, when you couldnt know, do for yourself.

Call them out those strong women, who would die for you… take on that teacher, that other parent.
who saw you and held you in the most high esteem.
Call them out!

Libation ad honor.

those women, who would slap the devil with Jesus hisself, but dont you dare lie to me.

radical motherhood making two pots of greens, one vegan one with pork
radical mother hood, reading Langston with Bey in the background
call them out
radical motherhood drinking champagne from paper ups

radical motherhood talks about condoms
radical motherhood talks about police stops
radical motherhood talks about interviews and resumes while sprinkling way too much paprika on the potato salad.

“thats my baby”

All honor and praise

a life spent settling – being a good girl. for what?

 

I have spent my life settling.

Told to not make wakes, not speak up.

Be a good girl. good girls go along, make do, compromise and do for others.

And if you are a good enough girl one day some day someone will care for you will love you will listen to you. You have to be pretty enough, kind enough, sexy enough to be loved.

if you are not loved it is your fault. you didn’t do enough, weren’t good enough.

And I look at my life and I see what settling for sorry ass men and friends has gotten me.

And I look around my life and I see what never putting my self has gotten me.

And I look around my life and see what following others plan for my life and not my own has gotten me

And I look around my life and see what believing the lies of others and not listening to my truth has gotten me.

and I say no. NO! I scream NOOO! at the top of my lungs, with all my might. I scream NOOOOOOO! my lungs ache and heart beats in my ears so loudly I cant hear my voice

I scream
I cry
I wail and moan

No more going along.
no more being your victim
your patsy
slave
joke

I throw things, I bash and break it all
no no no no no no more BULLSHIT

No more giving and not getting

No More BULLSHIT

and I feel the push back – resistance and anger at the change

go ahead – try it. try to guilt/shame or force me into making you comfortable

go ahead!! push your fear on me. sell me your crazy. go ahead and try.

there i so much rage and anger here, waiting for an outlet… go ahead… I wish a mutha fukka would.