your favorite paradox.
How can something made for resistance
have softness at its edges?
Black is capital letters
on the front page of a newspaper
and the twitch in your jaw
when the murder of your brother
is only worth half a column.
Woman is vulnerability
that you embrace as a strength;
it’s emotion to your advantage
and pink for your protests
whenever one of your own is attacked.
What is a black woman?
She is equal parts hurricane
and the first raindrops of spring;
Voice hoarse after yelling
and throat scraped raw
when the sobs are finally over.
The constellations you can never name
are made up of her tears and triumphs–
she is beauty obscured by the creations of man.
You want an antique,
artfully damaged to perfection;
black women are second hand novels,
margins flooded with casual genius,
stories so old yet perpetually relevant
that make you wiser with every reread.
my favorite metaphor
for everything we’re told is impossible.
Suzi Evelyn is a Sudanese American writer from Tennessee. She is a sixteen-year-old reader and dreamer. Prone to writing poetry literally anywhere she can, she simply wants to spread her voice throughout the world and hopes that her insight can resonate with other teens.