I'm here for the black girl.

The plain ass black girl.

For the one with the hyper pigmentation under her butt, underarms, knees, and elbows,

For the one with stretch marks on her hips,

birthmarks and moles all over her legs and arms,

and C-section scars on her brown and golden abdomen.

I'm here for the black girl.

Not the "exotical" from a far away land…

I can't relate to her…

For the one who got cracked on about her nose being too wide,

Her full lips looking like "d*** suckers,"

Her "buck eyes" being too big,

Her beautiful coiled hair looking like a "Brillo pad,"

and gelled up in a "little bitty ass snap ponytail" that we all laughed at.

The girl with the skin that's too black so you "better stay out that sun baby girl".

That's who I'm here for.

I'm here for the black girl.

The one who overcame the shame.

The taunting.

Who looked at the jar of Palmer's in the beauty supply store,

but put it back because she heard her aunt's voice tell her in the back of her mind that "her black was beautiful".

The one who wished she could wake up looking like the BET video girl.

Or Kobe's wife.

Or JLo.

Anything but what she saw in the mirror… Anything but blackness.

But woke up.

Looked at the essence of who and what she was,

Picked up that #blackgirlmagic,

And never put it back down.

I'm here for the black girl.

I'm here for the black girl.

I'm here for the black girl.

The plain ass black girl.

Because she’s anything but plain.

J.H. Davis

Writing since July 2017 · 1 story contributed