Phenomenal Women

Black womanhood is multifaceted, resilient and inspiring.

I am a Black woman and I love who I am. I love the Black women who raised me: my mom, my aunt, my grandmothers, older cousins, family friends, church elders, anyone who has resembled me and lit a fire within my core to press on.

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms,
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
Black women are frequently excluded from American conceptualizations of beauty, attractiveness and desirability, as if the idea of beauty is synonymous with similarity.
Over time, I have learned to love my skin and features. A rich complexion, magical eyes, full nose and figure that persists no matter my eating habits.
Over time and through observation I have grown confident in myself, my identity, my character and my purpose.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
I am a millennial, and many of peers seek temporary loves and short lived flings void of communication or commitment. I have been tempted to settle myself, fearing that my standards were too high and that I myself was not enough.
But for the last 22 years, I have watched the consistent love between my parents. I have watched my Aunt and Uncle play the dozens and then bond over HGTV. I have admired my Grandma calling my Grandpa about every two hours that she’s away from home. They have been married for 58 years!
If I ever settled for less, I would disown the legacy of truth on which I have been raised.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them,
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Black womanhood consists of two minorities: Blackness and womanhood. Two components which can separately garner prejudices, biases and stagnation, and which together typically preordain disapproval most environments.

The stereotypes placed on Black women are nauseating and confining, designed to keep the oppressor in power and the Black woman in submission; in a state of bewilderment and inferiority.

Our feelings are invalidated, our appearance is mocked and our intelligence plagiarized.

We are conditioned to fit into a box, conform, submit and gratefully accept whatever fragments of life we are given.

The unspoken repercussions of insubordination, are mockery and loneliness.

I was mocked because of my skin and my demeanor at a young age, and I spent most of my adolescence of alone. Attempted conformity availed nothing. and waned my spirit.

Within the last few years, I have been surrounded by people who have kindled the light within me, nurturing my voice, reshaping my identity, building my esteem.

I have become the young woman, I never dreamed I could be. Not because of my identity or appearance, but because of who I allowed to dictate my identity to me.

“I am my own before I am anyone else’s.” And I am proud.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing,
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need for my care.
’Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
-Maya Angelou

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

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