Woman, they say
Your breasts get larger each day! It is now time
To find a man, they conclude
Hands clasped together
As if my fate is already agreed upon
A fate written by the tears of mothers,
Grandmothers, aunties, and cousins
Engraved into our family history
This long-held tradition
Of tying our women up in obligations
To be something to everyone
And nothing to herself
Led onwards by the hand of a man
As if we ourselves
Have no minds.
But they expect me to smile and nod
Asking permission to exist
As if it was they that made me out of clay
Up there in the high heavens
And released my sorrowed soul down here
All to lead me onwards like a lost goat
Patting my head as I bleat silently of freedom
Of a life where I am my own master
Not just someone’s sister, daughter, wife, or mother
But still they look on with suspicion in their eyes
When I say
I did it for me
As if everything a black woman does
Is for the pleasure of a man
In this ugly patriarchy.
Wonderful poem, very moving. Thank you