Shout out to Mary Ellen, Leona and Mae.
Actually, to all our ancestors formerly known as slaves.
For these hips that gave existence to the origins of life;
To these thighs that still sashay, even while carrying centuries of indescribable pain;
For these bodies that although beaten and raped are imbued with the resilience of souls of unimaginable strength;
For a culture that although indefinable managed to give millions of displaced Africans in America their place.
An identity between: after the Kingdoms, but before their scrambles.
From plantations and Maafa to being emulated by the world, down to Jambalaya and Gumbo, and Madam CJ's press n curl. All the niggers and negros through octoroons and mulattos;
A tribe-less people with a white man's last name.
I don't know what to call us, but I know who we are.
We're Margaret Sanger's worst nightmare;
We are the proud descendants of slaves;
Albeit with no nation, no name.