Pretty for a Black Girl

Unless your name is Ebony
Your momma lied to you
Your name is tar candy
You will swallow it when necessary
And spit it out
When necessary
You will check it on white forms
That only recognize
Three other colors besides yours
You will be an African violet
With roots unseen
buried deep beneath American history
your full lips and hips
Will be beautiful on everyone but you
You be will called a bitch, and a ho
By your brothers
In melody
But you will dance anyway
You will be covered in
A chocolate, caramel, toffee blend
that men consume through videos
You will be crayon colors
high yellow
and red boned
labels you will try to rip off
And place on others
You will wear barrettes and braids
And headscarves at night
You will fight and be called angry
be calm, and be called angry
you will be Christian
but ignorant of any other faith
and you will not know change
except as his token
but what you will be
is not what you are
you are Angela, Correta, Nikki,
Billie and Rosa
descendants of Cleopatra
gift wrapped in golden skin
that have been burdened with royalty
and beaten to bow
and still
with straightened spine
and tarnished crown,
you march.