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Writer's pictureZanele Chisholm

64,000+ Black Women are Currently Missing

I could show you what you will find


I could show you what you will find

When you remove yourself from the aligned

And the confined


it's the Black girl hiding in disguise,

Unnamed as history rewinds

Enshrined in the redesign

Of mankind

Annihilate the Black mind

Nah, she's cryin’ cause she alive,

But the winded breaths

Of white supremacists

are keeping her behind


And The nicotine

Puff, puff, puffed

From her Grandfather down to her sister’s niece

Transfers like caffeine

Flowing down her throat

Filling the void canteen with addiction

The depiction of her crackhead grandma


Bring the cross

Prepare for crucifixion

Black girl has no jurisdiction

No justice like that

rape conviction

Where she was the victim and she

Paid time in the system

For not cumming sweet like a good little kitten


And when her body becomes the vending machine

For men to rifle through

While she floats to the in-between

You’ll remember that this girl is only fifteen


So much of this world left unseen

Except for the obscene

Rhythms of that man

Shredding her to pieces only to put her back together

As the the vacant vaccine

For other black women

“Come with me” he’ll say

But if you don’t cum for him

Watch as he skins

The face off of humanity


You will never understand brutality

Like watching your mother

Get whipped, beat, and pimped out

Watch her get clouted by insanity


Is this the Black reality?


Where women are harvested by the pound

Their souls wound

And drowned

In the American compound


And you won’t hear a sound

From Brothers weeping

On our ancestors’ burial grounds

But can’t seem to find

the same compassion for the

modern day Black girl

Nah, he's cashed in

His rations

To become a fraction

Of the white ideal.


And see, I understand

It’s quite attracting

To leave behind your faction

To become a part of the ashen,

A bystander to extirpation

But don’t forget

When you look at the world dispassioned

It's not because of the women you were smashing

Its because of your ignorance

Towards the thrashing

and crashing of the Black woman

encaptioned

While you saw as her distraction

Watch now as colonization

becomes the assassin

of you,

Dead inaction


And Still Black girl lays detained

Yet, untamed

The Black Girl ain't ashamed

To be constrained in the restraint

Cause you're afraid

Of the enraged and

unexplained

contained within

This body of a chain

She ain’t no slave

Within these veins

Ingrained is the blood of a Black woman’s name

You cannot drain or even attain

That which lives in my sisters’ flame.


And sacrifice comes with

the birth of each Black woman

Her essence explores

The world’s beginning

But, how do you silence

The rapture of life

Imprisonment can not

disorient

The stomp of a continent

When she finds her mother

Suspended in your convent.


Watch as the daughter of Nefertiti

finds her kingdoms in ash

Saw her people slashed, snatched

and dispatched to the New World

A new coming of age Where Black people are slurred as slaves.

And the Black child becomes lost

in the transition between adolescence

And her grave.


There is no difference between

enslavement and death

In both cases you lose

your mind, you body, and

the strength to know your existence

is more than a myth.


What does 400 years of oppression do to the mind

What has it done to the child

Has the Black girl become desensitized,

to her own demise


Does she know she has a story

If she told it, would you listen

Though her skin glistens under the sun of melanin

her dreams rot under the expectation of feminine


And still her mind lived in the sky

An abbreviated existence amplified

Until her body became the Beast’s battle cry

“The Black Girl has Got to Die!”

Say goodbye to inked butterflies

Whose thousands of wings shutter in compliance

This is no longer a class on political science

It's about alliance and defiance

64,000 Black Women are currently missing

In America today their clocks are ticking

What is the cost of living

If not the rip, risk, and splitting

Of an Oppressor who has decided

That this country’s greatest ambition

Is the erasure of the Black condition

See, they can pray in contrition

When the grave of our Black Women

is just the partition.

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