My Black has been viewed as both wretched and wicked
Through the socially constructed eyes filled with despise and demise
My Black to them looked less like a butterfly and more of the appearance of a cricket
To them, my Black had flaws
Bold lines that never intertwined with the shapes they were trying to create
Never the muse for the artistic brains of the world
And never the inspiration behind scholarly debate
But I knew differently…
I knew my Black had the whip appeal of 10,000 sharp tongues
I knew my Black had the dimensions to shape masterpieces that had never been seen
I knew my Black was neither harsh nor mean but could gleam
See, when you know your Black, you know its beauty
You know the reality of its regal nature
You see the eyes staring before they are even in your direction
You see how it makes the most intriguing connection
When you know your Black, you know its power
My Black has always been beautiful…since the first clock held an hour…
-Lauren Bealore
