Some say I have a heart like Gold.

That my mind is deeper than a dark night’s fold.

My lips like fine wine, intoxicates.

The best kinds that could buy out kings and brake down reigns.

My soft skin, the color of night,

But in the day, it sparkles like stars in the night Sky.

I am a black woman.

But still, my deep brown eyes shudder at my sight.

My reflection brings light to my plight.

I am not Ada.

Ada whose pale multi-colored skin runs chills down my spine.

Ada who can barely see in the heat of heavy sunlight.

Ada your nightmare screams daylight.

Ada you cannot help sweating profusely due to the chemicals on your face.

Ada your decaying skin must be covered by bottles of perfumes to hide your disgrace.

But no.

Society has pronounced Ada a beautiful woman.

They had taken a glimpse of my beauty and called it “not fancy”.

So like Ada, they cajole me to bleach my skin.

Ada is the face of their body lotions.

Ada advertised their perfumes.

Ada wears their Fancy clothes and shoes.

The young men chose Ada, or did they?

Or are they just like everyone else who is spoon-fed by the lies that society spews?

But sorry. I am not Ada and I never will be.

I am a black woman and I am beautiful.

My skin, like the ruby, glows in the Sun.

It sparkles in the heat and thrives in the cold.

My Skin tells a story of a beautiful people, who fought and won over their oppressors.

My skin is the result of a rich heritage of tradition and culture.

So to you Ada, why should I bleach my skin?

Why should I conform to an idea so depriving as to be just like everyone else?

I am sorry Ada I am unbothered.

I am special.

I am a beautiful black woman.




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