The Irony

You proclaim me the center of the universe. You place one step before the other, coming closer and closer to a light you’re drawn to, the source of which is unknown. “For you, I would slay the oppressor’s army.” “Goddess, it is you that’s meant to carry my seed.” “I need a Black Queen like you to hold me down.” “I’m in love with your mind.” Black man. I make space for you, not fully believing your words but knowing that the love I have is for you, but knowing that I was blessed with the nourishment for your starving soul, but knowing that my spirit is the antidote for the ills that plague your heart, that my laughter can heal the wounds society has inflicted upon you each day of your life. You proclaim me the center of the universe. Before calling me a bitch. Tears spill from my eyes and laughter escapes me. Irony. Grandeur when you approach….You kneel before me and claim you live to serve and observe my Queendom, your speech dripping with hyperbole. Goddess. Queen. Woman. Lil Mama. Shorty. Female. Cunt. Crazy. Inept. Invisible. Inadequate. When, actually, I uplift you. When, actually, I hold you down. When, actually, you eat because I feed you. I pay your rent. I bail you out. I give you places to sleep and spaces to thrive. I get on my hands and knees and labor beside you. I slave with you and over you. But when the public rushes to exalt you….. I am no longer center of the universe. I let you feed off of my energy, my light, my love. When you needed me there was nothing I couldn’t do. Remember? The very next week you tell me I ain’t shit and never will be. I slave with and over you. But when the public rushes to exalt you…. There is a shift and you are all and everything. Black man, you are all and everything. If only you believed this to be true. If only you stood with your crown intact, accompanied by your integrity and your loyalty to the second half of your soul. If only you understood that when you sell me out, that when you break me down, that when you let me go, that when you let me drown….. You are killing pieces of yourself. You are shedding your beautiful, Black skin, dark as night and sweet as chocolate to mirror the very oppressor you promised to save me from. But, it’s okay. Destiny dictates that it be me who saves you. History illustrates that it is I who possesses the strength to turn this train around…. To lift the world and prop it on my head like a bamboo basket. I love you, though you do not love yourself. And when you accept that your wickedness serves neither you nor your people, Your throne will be here waiting for you. Your Queen sitting right beside.