So she doesn’t feel as if she should apologize?
It’s not her sexuality I’m concerned about it’s mine
You say you want a black sound
And you re-emerge with what?
Trap music, ratchet chicks, a sub-culture of a sub-culture and you label it as black?
Okay, you must be a basic bitch
So I’ll break it down real slow
If you’re going to call it black at the very least
Pick a dance that Oprah Winfrey does.
What is a twerk? A booty bounce? Or a pussy pop?
Do you make it whistle, clap or jump as you drop it to the floor?
How can you claim you twerk when it’s not your culture chick?
And why is it when you appropriate my culture you must objectify our women?
I cannot for the life of me begin to understand
Why you think that othering my people doesn’t deserve an apology
I won’t be letting this slide and trust me when
I say you have not heard the last from anyone who has half a conscious
I don’t give a fuck how you portray yourself
Even if you want to get naked and stand on a corner
Slut shaming is for small dick men
And women oppressed by their own wild dreams
I expect you to fall off the earth and burn in outer obit
But until that day with baited breath I’ll be waiting
For a real Ratchet Chick to beat your ass!

YOU ARE READING
Who I Am
PoetryCollection of poems that speak to the human experience. Love, heartache, bullying, writing, find the record of the event here! Embrace what you know, leave preconceived notions at the door and unwind with Who I Am.