An Angry Black Woman’s Poem – Part 1

Hell yeah, I’m an angry black woman.
That’s their story and I’m sticking to it.

I’m angry.


Somebody is always telling me how to be me!
You’re too aggressive. You’re intimidating. You’re unapproachable.

That’s what they tell me.

It’s all good when I’m happy with smiles.

But as soon as they disagree with my argument…

They attack my character.
Everything associated with me becomes negative,

Are you intimidated?

My tone of voice, my fluid body movements, my facial expressions;

It’s all a problem because my energy doesn’t match theirs.

It’s all a problem when I don’t share their opinion.

That’s what makes me an angry black woman.
They want to put me in a box, caged like a wild animal.

They want to “fix” me so I’m more like them.

Ha! They better stay away from me.

I don’t want them to feel threatened and call the police.

I’m not professional; it should be against the law.

Don’t put me in a box

Don’t get me started on the laws.

They want my sons on the pipeline to prison instead of a street named Wall.

My husband, my brothers, my uncles and cousins; they all fit the description.

Police shootings. Gang shootings. Drug shootings.

Black men and women are endangered species.

Dangerous, lazy, oversexualized criminals;

Words they use when they tell their daughters to stay away from my sons.

Marry anybody but a black man; he is hated by the world.

They think I don’t know; That’s why I’m angry.

I’m an angry black woman.

Society has given me every reason to be angry

It’s their story and I’m sticking to it.

Systems are designed to ensure my failure because I’m not mainstream.

The research is their to prove it all; it just goes ignored.

My fiery passion is criticized, dismissed and punished.

I am angry. I am black. I am woman.

If that’s what I am, then just let me be.

I don’t have to be like them; I don’t have to be what they want.

They don’t have to be like me; they don’t have to be what I want.

I am angry. I am black. I am woman.

Please stop trying to label, define and limit me.

Posted by DaLoveLee1

I recently realized I have a passion for natural hair during on my journey toward self-acceptance and love. So much of who I am has always revolves around my hair. It reflects how I feel about myself internally. When I am depressed or stressed, I don't do my hair. If I do look like a million bucks, I feel like a million bucks, even if I'm flat broke. I started documenting my transition on Facebook and it spread to Instagram. I have been amazed at how I have come to love my kinks and curls. I didn't even know how to care for it when a started transitioning. It has been so liberating. I assumed the name LoveLEE around the same time as my transition because I needed to remind myself that I'm worthy of love. The image of women like me is skewed by the media and negative stereotypes. I refuse to confine since of love and beauty to society's standards. I'm starting this blog so other women will know that they don't have to be boxed in either. You are beautiful and flawless just the way you are.

Thanks for joining me.

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