WHEN SHE ASKS ME IF SHE’S BEAUTIFUL.

WHEN SHE ASKS ME IF SHE’S BEAUTIFUL.

When She Asks Me if She’s Beautiful…

 

One day when she asks me if she’s beautiful, I won’t know what to say.

Today, I don’t know what beauty is.

Today, I think beauty is lost.

The beauty of my people was tired but glistening eyes hidden in a dust covered face of exhaustion and struggle.

Women had a beauty from their hips that bore the weight of their children and in the stretching patterns of the place that was once home to many a fetus.

Their beauty was in henna stained toes hiding beneath the veils of material wrapped around her priceless torso.

Beauty was in her heart that was a school for her people, in her words, her intellect, her natural intuition.

A woman was beautiful because she was a woman.

A woman was beautiful.

Today, layers of cover up try to make up the beauty that was lost long a go.

Do we cover the mountains? Do we hide their lines and bumps to make them more conforming? Is there no more beauty in the detail?

Today, what was once beautiful has lost its shine, being constantly exposed to the weathering eyes and sometimes force of those who don’t care for the beauty that once was a woman.

Hair bleached.

Lip pout.

Tummy in.

Booty out.

Showing everything just to filter anything that isn’t perfect.

A woman is no longer about beauty.

Her beauty was sold for business.

She was lied to and she bought it.

They couldn’t sell her mind, her character, her culture, her compassion, her rawness and emotion.

So they told her that wasn’t beauty.

She was lied to and she bought it.

One day when she asks me if she’s beautiful, I won’t know what to say.

So before that one day comes

And the damage is already done,

Before the lies are told and they try to sell her short-

I’ll teach her that everything about a woman,

Everything that makes her a woman

That’s what makes her beautiful.

 [Repost from www.beyondiddah.com]
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