I am a black woman who cries about her everyday struggle. I cry not because I am weak but because I have been broken. I have been broken because our professional black men choose to be on the down low affecting us sisters. We are single parents in rapid numbers. I cry because we no longer value the essence of marriage.
I also cry because I am nothing but a neck snapping, proclaim to be loud woman.
As a light skinned woman not to be refused with “yella girl”, I am prisoner of negative statistics. Although I am young gifted and naturally beautiful it's still an illusion about this “yella girl”. Yes, I represent the heart of a black woman but does my darkness run deep enough to be classified as a black woman.
I am defined by my color and my attitude, this black woman cries.
I want to be recognized by who I am not what I am. Take the time out to understand my history. I am only a black woman who cries.
