Last night, I graduated. With all my hair.
I made a poll that went viral in my school, collected over 200 responses, faced backlash from teachers, scheduled a private meeting with the principal and now, here I am. Bidding goodbye to dark clouds, soaked and smiling as the storm subsides and I have no regrets.
Because in today's age, the post pacification of the black race, our hair is what we make it. And if we decide it means nothing, then it will.
But if we fight for it and claim it for what it is, the holiest part of our body, it will mean everything. And the world will watch in envy.
YOU ARE READING
Dreaming Black Boy; an autobiography
PoetryIn which a millennial black boy discovers the power of his thoughts and the impact of a pen. The consequences thereafter are devastating. A collection of shitty poems and real life experiences narrated from the perspective of a charcoal dreamer.