Society knows how special black women are

when people can't just say they like you.

If they could bottle it up and sell it they would. “A Black Woman’s Confidence, pure all organic” on the label and priced tagged higher than saffron. I could imagine the shelves would always be empty. People rushing into stores asking clerks when is the next shipment and battling for the last of it like a 90’s Black Friday sale. Individuals from all races and ilk of life rubbing it all over there body then standing in the mirror waiting to happen. The magic, the spark, the spiritual resilience, the factory of natural creativity, the undeniable conviction of self.

Black women’s confidence is the rose that grew from the concrete. A lush garden bush of flowers completely un-watered, unprotected but vibrant, dazzling in the sunlight nonetheless. I think that’s what puzzles society. Shouldn’t we haven’t given up by now? Shouldn’t we be depleted, somewhere rotting and begging for help? Shouldn’t we be absolutely lifeless? That’s what they wants to see from us. That’s who they think we ought to exist as but collectively we’re just not. I mean a Black woman just ran for motherfcking President of the United States and despite her loss even the possibility of it occurring in a country where, only about four generations ago, we were considered lower than animals that is miraculous journey in societal growth. It speaks volumes on the fire that burns with in us.

So, when I see the millionth video of a group of people who are not Black women excitedly convening together to slander us, speak on our body parts, our own personal issues and chat incessantly on practically anything about us down to the way we breathe, our hair to the shape of our toe nails I understand exactly what is going on. They’re trying to figure us out. Our audacity to still shine regardless of all odds. The obsession is fascination. Of course, they could just come right out say how interesting Black women actually are and how much resilience is admirable but in a world of insecure narcissists brainwashed to be racist and sexist that’s just not going to happen. They’re all better than Black women right? All men and all other races of women? Why the hell would they find any awe in people they are told all the time they’re above? That’s backwards and go against everything they were taught. Nonetheless, they are in awe. They’re entranced, hypnotized even. Society is addicted to Black women.

It’s also the reason I believe Black-fishing exists. It’s not just the cool aesthetics, its something more. I think about who that white girl who was before she decided to tan her skin the darkest of browns and get box braids? Who the gay, Asian guy or even straight Black man was before he started making himself a caricature of a stereotypical Black women mannerisms for views. I wonder why they felt who they were originally was just not enough? I believe it goes beyond wanting to be funny. People genuinely want to wear our skin and feel our power, absorb our energy through their pores. They hope if they pretend to be us that maybe they can scrape off some of our confidence and flavor. Magic is there, they can see it but they can’t taste it, no matter how hard they try.

I, as an adult can see through the bullshit. The people I am most concerned for is little black girls who are too young to process misogynoir for the obsession it really is. They probably scroll on their phones and experience what they do at school and home and wonder why the world is hates them. My heart breaks for them. I wish I could scream out to these girls “You are it! You are everything! You are the prototype, the blueprint, the beginning or humanity and the foundation! They’re all just jealous, I promise!” but I know even my younger self wouldn’t believe it. I was too caught up in the pain and self-loathing of rejection that I could barely look up. Unfortunately, it’s something that we can only hope most little black girls grow out of. Some of us never do but a lot of us have and it’s evident.

Black women continuously rise from the ashes, build, heal, grow and become successes by our own definition decade by decade, century by century. We go from tortured, enslaved women breast feeding white babies to Supreme Court Justices over and over and over again. The world may spend plenty of time dissecting our nearly supernatural will. Sometimes they’re so angry they don’t possess it they resent us, they seek to ruin us and humiliate us but then there we go again, we rise. We must be so annoying, resurrecting from the ashes like that. We are truly the phoenix of the world and it’s a shame there’s no respect or appreciation where it’s due but then again have we ever needed them for anything?