White Hands

Content Warning:

This piece includes description and discussion of sexual violence and abuse, which includes racialized sexualized violence (sexual violence + racism) and ongoing trauma. This is deeply personal and something I have chosen to not speak about until recently. 

I still tremble,

Feeling your  hands stroke

The softness of my inner thigh

Colonizing my young, brown body

For your own

 

I still tremble,

The memory of undressing, coxing

Your bright eyes taunt me

– you don’t want to end up alone –

I still tremble at the familiarity of

the words you spoke

Your white mouth hot with rage

I shut my eyes

 

I still tremble,

When i remember the way you stole from me

My deepest love

Reserved for myself, my ancestors dreams

 

Letting these white hands trace the lines of my skin

Skin that holds the stories of my ancestors

Hands that hold us down

With the kind of violence that comes disguised as love

 

Love that is dangerous

– An exotic obsession –

Love that tells me i can’t come inside, your mother is home

Love that tells me I will never be an equal cause

 

We – brown skin, hair that catches in your fingers –  

are built for

– Fucking –

Not loving

– Owning –

Not holding

 

I still tremble when a white man moves too close –

His existence a threat and a memory

I still feel your hot breath:

– be quiet –

I still feel your strong hands:

– be still –

I still feel your body move in me:

– you n****r bitches love it –

 

September 9th 2018

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