your father is semi automatic black. pound cake black. “call me anything less than black and I’ll fuck you up” black. why go up north black? a blunt in one hand, a rattle in the other black. one of nine black. my little brother black. prison swole black. guttural lullaby black. didn’t really have a father around black. couldn’t wait to be yours black. no job black. still got pampers black. mah-mah’s boy black. stand alone black. rapper like most black boys under six feet black. don’t talk about where he’s been black. we don’t ask black. loves you black. will give you the world black. even if he has to shoot it up black.
“No, women like you don’t write. They carve onion sculptures and potato statues. They sit in dark corners and braid their hair in new shapes and twists in order to control the stiffness, the unruliness, the rebelliousness.”
― Edwidge Danticat
tell me the story of your hands.
tell me of the ways they dance,
the crack and bend only Women know.
tell me when was the first time
you felt their weight, and knew
what you were capable of.
with Woman god gave three gifts
(nothing can beat good pussy
or a quick tongue).
tell me the first time a man
held them longer than wanted.
tell me. please.
tell me the ache gets easier to ignore.
that holding creation in one
and destruction in the other gets less
exhausting. tell me
that postposing the revolution
for kinky twist and collards
was worth it. tell me Woman
what am I to do with my hands,
when i still don’t know how to control
my pussy or tongue.
tell me. please.
©Britteney Black Rose Kapri
I figured I would write my thoughts on it all. After having a night to sleep on it and a day to reflect, I think there has been ample time to gather my thoughts while the encounter is still fresh.
First off, I will state that the reason I’m making light of the situation is because I don’t think what I did was wrong. To be blunt, I was proud of my progress in the gym, thought I looked hot, and wanted to share it. I’m of the mindset that whoever you are, if you are proud of your body and want to show it off, so be it! You do you. There is an odd taboo with the human form (especially in the USA) and I don’t particularly think its a good thing to teach people that you should “hide yourself” as something incredibly sacred. Blah blah blah, that’s a medieval notion.
Secondly, the real problem here was not me sending my pictures to someone, but rather, sending them to the WRONG someone. The real travesty is a misplaced trust, and while I am certainly to blame for it, it is a shame that my private life was somehow forcibly dragged into the public’s perception of me. What is wrong is that, generally I try to stay cool and collected with my prose and a role model for kids (maybe not anymore shamefully) and this seemingly inconsequential act will likely affect the youth’s impression of me. Not only that, but I worry somewhat for my artistic integrity, and my academic integrity. Not exactly ideal, but I’m to blame and I’ll look this incident in the eye like a man. I did it, but I’d be damned if I didn’t own that shit like Beyonce would want me to.
Finally though, and I think that this is the most important part, because of this, I gained 200,000 followers on twitter, 40,000 followers on tumblr, and 20,000 followers on instagram…. It seems to me that the majority of people are actually praising this act as some sort of device to receive fame (or infamy). Why? I have no clue, I don’t entirely condone it though. I’ll make it clear my intent was for this not to happen, and how it has affected me so positively is an enigma to me that rings true of the human condition. Maybe people just like to see others mess up? I’m German by blood, so I feel you on that.
tl;dr? I was proud of myself and my progress since I was 14 and husky, I’m not proud of this incident’s potential lasting effects on my academic and artistic integrity. But I’m making the best of it through humor and I’m getting this shirt made today: