Thick Skin

I hate that I have to have thick skin.
When somebody calls me a black bitch,
I'm supposed to take it in,
Then spit it out like a lose tooth from a punch.

I hate that I have to ignore the hate
Because people think that I'm half human/half ape
Because my hair is kinky and my skin is brown
I hate that I have to smile to hide my frown

So no-one can see the tear marks hidden away in my eyes
When society says that your life don't matter
And being alive is a crime
I hate that I have to even say that
But it's a hate that I have to live with
A hate that feels colder than fact.

I hate that I have to one day, tell my son or my daughter
That yes, you're black and the world thinks you're cursed.
When they have to ask, "Then mommy, wouldn't us being here make the world worse?"
I hate that they will have to one day, struggle to find their self esteem.
Like I had to...

I hate that I'm not seen as a woman

That was designed to love and give birth to different forms of art
But my blood is used as warrior paint instead of a symbol of loss
My body was used as a pin cushion and a cadaver for abuse
Thick skin is how my ancestors survived past society's noose

I am tired of being emotionally strong
I want to feel vulnerable and not be labeled weak.
I want to be able to cry and see more days that are less bleak
I want to feel like I'm a FUCKING PERSON
And not a virus because of my skin color
I want to be judged as an individual
And not by anything other

But I know it's not going to happen
Because systematically we're in too deep.
But I hate that it's this way
Some nights I can't even sleep.

Thinking about the next generation
Is the best thing that I can do.
I have to put on that thick skin.
So that they can see how to overcome this too.