African as I am either African or African-American 

I wake up to the morning sun

My black skin shun , my face unwashed my hair unbraided 

I get up ,I wash up, my hair, my face, body, till I feel fresh 

Grooming and moisturizing my skin

I clean up, but then … my hair… damn

I comb the but this massive volume of hair curls back into an Afro, a massive sponge on my head unwilling to bend 

I know you relate well with this because you’re an African queen 

Some of us perm our hair to reduce the volume, but it has to be done over and over to keep the beast at bay and in the process some of us loose hair 

You pick up a stretcher, stretch out every volume.

You feel like a white woman , your hair flows to your back

You go out to the world, to the bustling streets, and just then rain gushes down like a demon gracing your presence 

You cry, you weep, you mourn, your efforts gets washed away by droplets of water 💧 

You run into shelter then you look into the mirror 

It doesn’t surprise you no more, your hair is once again a sponge… a massive volume, full of, curly, lest I forget… stubborn 

Yea you could be proud of your Afro among your kind 

But looking up somewhere in the world where you are different 

You dwell in the midst of people with different skin color and hair type, different preferences, different flavors and personalities 

And you feel INADEQUATE 

Because they look more human ? 

Who decided that? Uhn? Who said an Afro was improper? Who said it was untidy ? who said it was ugly ?

You are beautiful 

So … raise your head high every morning 

Come through your Afro , style it , rock it

Be proud of it because you are an African queen 

And your hair, your Afro, is a part of your identity