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By Joy KMT
The hardest thing for a traumatized people to do is look in the mirror and love themselves, and their reflections. I say its revolutionary to open your heart up to your fam when you’ve been told it’s seditious to do so. But you know what?
Let’s love each other on a real level. That means we gon get down in the mud with each other, and we gon witness each other and reflect each other til we see each other and we see ourselves.
I’m talking about a quality of love that I can’t describe in this language, cause all this language give me is some jesus shit or some romance shit, and that ain’t what I’m talking about.
I guess that’s why I call myself poeting, cuz I was born with a tongue that ain’t mine, but that’s not my point.
There is something fiercely beautiful about the strength of black women. When I say strength, I don’t mean the hard mean ass fuck the world attitude that we put on as a cloak to hide our tender hearts from the pain of being too other in a hegemonic world.
I mean the strength of a black woman reflecting on her body-emotional, physical, spiritual, energetic,-body and tracing the scars of imperialism and oppression and abuse and neglect and self-hate with her fingertips
and finding herself. and sharing herself and sometimes It’s like a river
that’s been dammed/damned and she floods all your gates and your defenses and you can do nothing but acknowledge her as a force of NTR.
and worship this reflection of self. because look,
I’m talking about myself here.
When I am connected to the flow of all that I am and am sure in what has spanned the breadth of time in me,
ain’t nothin quite as beautiful but
I know the pain of tracing those scars like a puzzle
you tryna solve so that the devil
will give you back your soul only
you don’t even understand why it’s worth it in the first place cuz the
greatest lie the devil ever told was that
so when we trace it and unlock it,
unweave it, spiral back to
and struggle for our own worthiness
in our own eyes
and strive to not only accept but celebrate
the divinity of ourselves and our paths and our destiny
and when we cry, and when we grieve
when we laugh not in spite but in delight
when we show up as our black selves unafraid to
shine a light
when we speak to our core knowings
and know the circle is unbroken
and only an illusion will tell us otherwise,
it is then that we resist
it is then that we revolt
it is then that we begin to fight
when we begin to love ourselves
when I begin to love myself,
then We, You and I have already one/won
cuz an army of lovers
cannot be defeated.
It was written in my blood that one day the dead
lovers that have fought
and been buried defending
their rights to love
would be born again.
they are here now
we must stand
the winds are strong
we will stand
remember who you are, lover
here we stand
Joy KMT is self-taught & queer & black & femme & hood & poet & mother & lover &. A MacDowell Fellow as well as a recipient of a Heinz Endowment Fellowship, her poetry has appeared in Check The Rhyme: An Anthology of Female Emcees and Poets, Amistad: Howard’s Literary Journal, Blood Lotus, Backbone Poetry Journal, and Black Girl Dangerous. Her first chapbook, Organic Spaceships and Black Madonnas, is due to be published through NuBorn Sage Press. Facebook her at www.facebook.com/joy.kmt.