Anchors Aweigh

Anchor’s Aweigh by Too Tall Joanz©

My complexion has been described as many things
Beige, high yella, coffee with extra cream
but what I see
what has always been my reality
is that I’m a Black woman
just as Black as my grandmother
who is dark-chocolate covered
I know the life of no other
than that
however light I’m wrapped
Rooted in my family tree
swimming in the blood in me
melanoid spores when I breathe
I don’t know any
other being
than that of a Black woman
What does that mean?
What does that mean to me, you mean?
To begin, a whole multitude of things
First of all, I know I’m a Queen
even though society would have me believe otherwise
I don’t receive those lies
Given the things I’ve survived
and all of what I’ve sacrificed
without taking my own life
or losing my mind
being a daughter of the Divine
I was born with this crown of mine
Trying to remember the time
when God asked me what I want to be
’cause I feel I chose this
I gravitate towards challenges
I wanted to be Her
a Black woman
I didn’t want it easy
The role for me
had to be hard
so I said “God,
make me a Sistah!”
the dotted line
on the role I was assigned
Living in this Blackness of mine
I get racism from all sides
hated for being Black
hated by my own for being too light
my personal plight
I know plenty
of darker skinned folks living better than me
If I ever had an air of superiority,
it wasn’t because I was light
It is because I’m a Black woman
Some people think we’re the bottom of the bottom
that all we do is ’cause problems
but thru my Black eyes
I see otherwise
therefore I can deny
those lies
68 percent of us hold it down
with no man around
Let society explain why
’cause they think we can’t keep a man
but what y’all don’t understand
when it comes to addressing those lies
when it comes to being a Sistah
and being with a Sistah
put it all in caps
and that’s what we know how to do
with or without you, boo
and yet we raising our kids
The Brothas call they Black ass mama, grandmama, or sis
Somebody Black with a cooch and some tits
when shit gets real
and it has
and it will
and you know that it is
just look at the time in which we live
So no,
I don’t accept the lies
said about me and the Nubian Queens of mine
The bottom of the bottom
treated like cankers
but thru my Black eyes
Black women are anchors
built to grab earth
that Black dirt
from Mother Africa
Mother Earth
blessed by birth
to weather storms
and thus strength
coupled with stability
is a gift given by the Divine as my divinity

I see how eyes look at me

but thank God I’ve got my own to see
I view the treasure of my Blackness as my wealth
Get mad if you want to
so much that it haunts you
I bless you in your stress
but it’s bad for your health
The Word says
“No man has ever hated his own flesh”
So regardless
of what you think Black women should feel
about ourselves
ain’t really nobody’s business
but there’s a whole lot of love there
in a place where
it keeps us going
corded in vessels for the storms
’cause who else gon’ hold you down?
We’ve nursed babies of every color
had to play mother
to other babies that weren’t our own
’cause their own didn’t want to be bothered
while leaving our own at home
just to make a dollar
Who put up with it like us?
With how everybody looks at us
on our coin?
And yet we’ve been entrusted
to keep secrets that’ll make you cringe
No one is built
with a hand strong enough
to play the cards dealt
to a Black woman
gender or race
They try to duplicate us in parts
but we can’t be replaced
the bottoms
the bottom
then give us our space
You yank her?
No thank ya!
Then Anchors Aweigh!


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