letting go

today i did one of the hardest things i never thought i could do

i let go of a lover who couldn't love me the way i deserve

it was so painful; it is so painful

i cannot honestly say if it is liberating yet...because i didn't want to let him go

but every heartache, missed call, ignored message, broken promise, poor excuse rang more loudly in my ear than the memory of when it was good

i let go of a lover today

a person who in a strange way loved me more than i thought i could be loved

and as painstaking as it is to admit, i know i can be loved better

so much better

xoxo,
m

On Black, Fat, Femme Positivity: Why I'm at My Heaviest, My Most Confident, and Don't Need Your Approval to Exist

"If I breathe in public for five seconds, it’s also common that someone will feel the need to tell me, “YASSSSS!” in an attempt to cheer on my fat Black femme existence like I’m a damn animal learning how to be housebroken. People love to be voyeurs of fat Blackness, and inadvertently become more problematic by trying to “yasssss” us through anything we do. Our mere survival is read as motivational to all those witnessing our existence, and it inspires everyone who’s not us because they’re actually partaking in the subordination of our humanity. Our humanity and beauty are seen as less than thin able bodied-ness, maintaining a hierarchy even when we receive these empty-ass compliments or praises. It only reaffirms that our dehumanization validates your safety." -Ashleigh Shackelford

Not even 24 hours after reading Ashleigh's full contribution: “Fuck You, Pay Me: Reparations for Fat Black Bitches and Everything We Provide” to Wear Your Voice Mag from whence the above is excerpted, I experienced this very microaggression.

Like many millennials, I have a handful of online dating accounts and/or apps. This morning I awoke to a message from a faceless profile lauding me for my daring to be confident in my pictures. He says, “I love how proud you look in your photos. Good job!”

Sir, excuse the fuck outta you! I wasn’t aware that I was doing a job by existing in this fat, Black, femme body. And since you think I'm doing such a damn good job, fuck you, pay me! I normally would clap back and read the aggressor for filth. But I didn't even have the energy, so I just blocked him. Existing is exhausting for a fat, Black woman, girl or femme. And some mornings, you just wanna get up and get ready for work without verbally handing someone their shit.

The above excerpt is so spot on. My very existence is used as either motivation porn, or is disavowed and shamed. I can't just fucking be. A thin, White woman wouldn't encounter the same type of commentary, because her being confident, comfortable and proud in who she is is normalized. Meanwhile, the fact that I would have the audacity to take a few pictures of myself, look happy and secure and post them on a dating site is a feat in the eyes of our society. FOH with that bullshit, fam.

My existence isn't a parade for you to clap and cheer (or jeer) as I walk along living my fucking life. It has taken a lot of pain and heartache to get to where I am mentally, emotionally and spiritually with myself and the space I occupy on this earth. Even now, at my heaviest (the number is none of your damned business), I am at my most confident. I feel beautiful, sexy even--whaaat?! I am 98.9% comfortable in my skin, I have a clean bill of health from my doctor as far as you are concerned (minus these muhfuggin allergies and asthma), and it ain't none of your business who is in my bed. 

My weight in pounds, my chart at the doctor's office, and who "dares" to sleep with me is none of your concern. But if you want so badly to laud my existence as me doing a good job being my gahtdamn self, cut me a check; run me my money, heaux!

I don't have much else to post here right now, as Ashleigh did a beautiful job summing up my very sentiments. But I'm sure I'll write on this subject again.

Happy Thursday!

-m

Requite

I'd asked myself a few times over why is it I love you
And I recall the Christ and how He loved us first; so, we love Him in return
It is the least we could do...the very least
For whatever reason, you loved me first
You allowed your heart to be wild and abandon security for risk of loving me
Freely
For you to love me, though I don't understand it
Though I don't always fully believe it
Makes me want to love you in return
It is the least I could do...the very least

Missing you

Originally written September 21, 2015

Some would maintain that you can't miss what never was
They would be wrong
For they know not of the many times you've kissed my lips with your words
They haven't felt the jumble of butterflies I get when your grasp steadies my hips with mere thought
Or the comfort I've gotten in the way you held the small of my back with your care
And some days, it feels unfair
That you can't wrap me in your physical embrace
But until then, I'll let your words kiss my lips

Insomnia

Originally written August 23, 2015

You are my insomnia.
It's unfair that you've taken over my mind.
Sweet goodnights end with me staying awake daydreaming of sweet, good nights next to you.
It's unfair.
How you've hitched yourself up to me without warning.
I don't wanna call it love. But...I can't sleep.

Default

Originally written September 9, 2015

There exists an insurmountable number of words sufficient to express my sentiments for you.
However, my lips and heart default to one.
And who's to say how foolish I've become
In light of a whirlwind romance?
Swept in your arms, enjoying this dance.
While I'm afraid, these butterflies excite me.
While I'm timid, your passion ignites me.
I await the day we'll finally come face to face.
Until then, my heart remains foolishly true.
While my head and mind tell me like,
My heart and lips tell me I love you.

My Love

Originally written on September 1, 2015

I'm not sure I can trust you with my love.

Forgive me my love.

The truth is, I'm jaded; I'd hoped that I hadn't been fazed by the ways others have hurt me

I find it hard to trust that you won't hurt me or desert me

I'm not sure I can't rust you with my 'I love yous.'

Forgive me, my love.

The truth is, I wonder if they will be abused; misused, appropriated for selfish tools to hack away at my being

Depleting their meaning

Taken and emptied

I'm not sure that this is even love.

Forgive me, my heart.

The truth is, I fear that this is the part where I've fallen; where I thought I'd heard love calling only to answer to strange heavy breathing

Heart rate steadily increasing

I think this is love, but I'm having trouble believing

Forgive me, my love.

I'm not sure that I cannot trust you

Give me a reason to not trust you.

Remiss

Originally written July 2015

I'd be remiss to not admit that I replayed the kiss I longed for your to plant on my lips.
Passionate. Soft. Warm. Heavy.
Only looking to gaze into my eyes to hold my soul steady.
I wanted to give more of myself to you.
But to my great dismay, you couldn't let me.

Escape

Originally written June-July 2015

I want to be your escape.
Your break away from the world
Your window seat.
The waves along the shore crashing against your feet.
Let me be your sunrise, your brighter day.
Eyes you can look into and lose your troubles...
Even if for only a moment.
Let me be your moment
Away from it all.
Your lifeline call when you feel yourself slipping.
Let me be your gripping.
Get your bearings with me.
Just hold on and enjoy if only for this moment.
Let me be your escape.

Untitled

Originally written July 9, 2015

I just want someone who is gonna love me freely with full abandon.

With no clauses or pauses.

Without fear of my wildness.

Love my mind and the ebb and flow of every thought. 

As though this is the very purpose for which he'd been wrought.

Hammered, beaten, shaped...

To love me effortlessly

Even when he doesn't like me.

Even when he wants to spite me.

His very being aches to love me.

Deeply and dauntlessly.

'him' - a haiku

I'm missing your voice
It's the closest thing I have
Akin to your touch

No. 13 of my 30 in 15 for Nation Poetry Month (don't know if I'm gonna make it, lol)

Ode to Black Men

Forgive me if I

Stare
Drool a little bit
Twirl my hair

Catch a whiff of your smell
Graze your arm or chest
Excuse me while I
Catch my breath

Less than I can say
I'll watch your step
As you walk my way
I speak of the depth

Of your brown, brown eyes
Your tall, wide gait      

You're no more wise
That I've taken the bait      
                                                       
Of the love that danced on your lips as you spoke

Or your sun-kissed skin
Cacao is akin to your melanin
Don't flash that winning grin
I almost choke   
                                                     
On my words to describe you

Many come close, but none contend...
There is just something about Black men.

Mirakol Smith, April 25, 2015